Heart of Atlantis
by Zeplerfer
Summary: Alfred joins an intrepid group of explorers searching for Atlantis and its mysterious power source. But amidst the ruins, he discovers that the people of Atlantis are still alive... and they need his help. USUK. Based on the Disney movie.
1. Chapter 1

**Based on**: Disney's _Atlantis the Lost Empire_. It should make sense without any knowledge of the movie. For those who _have_ seen the movie, be aware that this story makes a lot of changes and cuts out a number of characters.

**Pairing:** USUK with a happy ending.

***Warnings***: Villain character death. (If you've seen the movie, you probably know who.) Also, genderbending because Helga had to be fem!Germany.

* * *

_Somewhere Beneath the Atlantic Ocean, March 1914._

In a labyrinth of caves, a group of explorers sat around a campfire waiting for their American navigator to figure out if they should go left or right. The navigator pored over his books, muttering to himself in different languages as he reviewed his notes. The others waited with varying degrees of impatience. As the wait stretched out, one of the explorers pulled out a lighter, admiring the flame for a moment before he lit a cigarette.

"Remind me again, why is _he_ in charge of the map?" Francis asked, using his cigarette to gesture in the direction of their navigator. Francis—called Franny by his friends and many lovers—was charge of demolition in case they ran into any obstacles in the extensive cave system. Franny's task was blowing stuff up and he was _magnificent_ at it. Other people could create explosions; Francis had turned destruction into an _art_.

"Because he's the expert in gibberish," Angelique replied with a shrug, tossing one of her pigtails over her shoulders. Despite her youth, she served as the chief mechanic, ensuring that all of the trucks and equipment ran smoothly. At least, she made sure that they ran smoothly when they were _actually moving_, as opposed to when they had to wait for the navigator to figure out the next path. She ground her teeth in frustration, annoyed by the constant delays. "Not much of an expert, I say," she muttered.

The group looked up as a bubbly brunette arrived with pots and plates, ready to serve dinner. "Who wants pasta?" Feliciano asked cheerfully. He was the cook for the expedition. Feli never minded the breaks because it gave him time to bring water to a boil and make his favorite dish. He could cook any dish in the world... so long as it was pasta.

"Si! Pasta sounds delicioso," Antonio replied happily. He accepted a plate of perfectly cooked pasta from Feli and asked for a double-serving of tomato sauce. Toni and Feli shared a love of Italian cooking, especially when it was smothered in delicious marinara sauce. Antonio slurped up his meal happily. Despite his ditzy personality, Dr. Toni had superb medical skills (he could amputate a leg in under 30 seconds), which was the reason he had been chosen as the team's doctor.

The leader of the expedition checked his watch. "Any chance you'll be done today, Alfred?" Commander Gilbert called, a hard edge to his voice. He had served for a number of years in the Prussian military and he valued clock-like precision—a quality that he found sadly lacking in his American navigator. His second-in-command stood beside him, gazing disapprovingly at the navigator's confused expression. Lieutenant Monika shared her superior's love of efficiency and punctuality.

"Wait, I've got it!" Alfred grinned excitedly. He pointed to the right as the explorers breathed a sigh of relief. "I was holding the map upside down," he explained.

"_Dummkopf_," the commander muttered under his breath to general agreement from the other explorers. They packed up and moved on, wondering how the hell they had ended up with such a stupid navigator. Unfortunately for them, there was only one expert on Atlantean writing in the entire world, meaning that they were stuck with Alfred F. Jones.

* * *

Without the movement of the sun across the sky, the explorers had to rely on their watches to keep track of time. They always took an hour break for lunch (pasta) and after several more hours of traveling, stopped again for dinner (also pasta).

While the rest of the explorers made camp, Alfred struggled to set up his tent. He had never been boy scout material as a child, preferring reading in his grandfather's study to camping outside, so he'd never developed the knack for it. Everyone else had proper looking tents, while Alfred's was a flimsy, lopsided structure, but Alfred didn't want to ask them for help setting up his tent because they already thought he was a useless idiot. As his grandfather always said, it was better to be thought an idiot than to open his mouth and remove all doubt.

Alfred settled down in his tent and tried to fall asleep. In the back of his mind, he could hear the whispered mutterings that they _must_ have taken a wrong turn somewhere or were wandering in circles. He had been a little too optimistic in his time estimates and now he was paying the price. He wanted to find Atlantis more than anyone, and he wanted to do it as soon as possible. Alfred pretended to be oblivious, but he wondered sometimes if there was a flaw in his translations that was leading him astray. That thought—and the shoddy construction of his tent—kept him awake at night. After a couple hours of restless tossing, Alfred decided he might as well have a snack if he was going to be awake at midnight. He climbed out of his tent, nearly knocking the poor thing over. He grabbed a flashlight and walked over to the truck that stored the food. Alfred found some biscotti near the top of the boxes and happily munched on the hard Italian cookie. Feliciano was the nicest of his fellow explorers. The cheerful Italian loved anyone who loved food, and no one loved food quite as much as Alfred did.

The American looked up at the stars and sighed. He had joined the expedition because he had few other choices after he lost his job at the university. He liked to think of himself as a researcher—an expert linguist with a real talent for dead languages—but his university had actually kept him around because he knew how to keep the boiler working. Once they upgraded the boiler to a new system, they didn't need him any more and he had been out on his ass the next day. The chance to join the Atlantis Discovery Expedition had been a godsend after he lost his job. It was also his best chance to prove to the skeptics that his grandfather's translation and research were sound. His chance to prove that Atlantis had actually existed. He just wished his granddad could have lived to see it.

A sudden thought intruded on Alfred's nostalgia. It occurred to him that there shouldn't be _stars_ because he was in a _cave_. Even worse, the stars really shouldn't be moving _closer_, looking more like an incoming hail of miniature comets. "Fire! Fire!" Alfred shouted to warn the others as he raced through the camp.

"I am going to kill that kid," the commander muttered under his breath, annoyed at being roused from his dreamless sleep. Realizing that the danger was real once he cracked open his eyes, Commander Gilbert began shouting orders, instructing the explorers to save the essentials and get in the trucks. Lieutenant Monika tried to organize a bucket line, but soon discovered that the insects created new fires faster than they could put them out.

Alfred dashed towards his tent, hoping to rescue his precious map and journal before the tent went up in flames. He saw that his tent was already on fire and without a second thought dived in to save his book, remembering to tuck and roll. The tent's shoddy construction worked in his favor, allowing him to roll out again because he hadn't properly staked down his tent flap.

Still a little dazed, Alfred rose to his feet. He saw Monika shouting; she was gesturing at the closest vehicle, her words drowned out in the commotion.

As he glanced at the truck, he realized it was the one holding Franny's entire collection of explosives. Alfred felt his stomach turn to lead and he turned to run away, making it only a few steps before the truck exploded. The force sent him reeling into a ditch. Ears ringing, he gripped the journal tightly against his chest and tried to roll into a ball. Studying dead languages hadn't prepared him for this.

Rocks dug into his side as he tumbled into the darkness below. He tucked his head into his chest, clutched his precious book, and desperately hoped that the cave had something soft at the bottom. He came to an painful stop at the base of the ditch, knocking his head hard against a jagged rock. Alfred's vision blurred and filled with black spots. After a few moments to catch his breath, he lifted one hand to the back of his head and felt warm blood oozing from the wound. That didn't feel good. On the bright side, somehow his glasses were still on his face, and he still clutched the precious book against his chest with his other hand.

Alfred gathered his breath to shout for help, but his shout turned into a gasp of surprise as a figure suddenly materialized in front of him. He could tell that this wasn't a member of the expedition. None of the explorers had strange masks, blue tattoos, or glowing blue necklaces. Kneeling next to Alfred, the man lifted up his mask. With his wild blond hair and bright green eyes, he looked a few years older than Alfred and somehow ageless at the same time. Alfred had never seen someone so beautiful before in his life. He wondered if he was dead.

"Are you an angel?" Alfred whispered, awestruck.

The man replied with a string of syllables that tickled at the back of Alfred's mind. In his confused state, it took him a few moments to realize that the words sounded like _Atlantean_. Alfred and his grandfather had used the dead language as their own secret tongue during his youth and that practice came in handy now. Alfred thought he recognized the last few words as "hold still." The stranger lifted his blue crystal and touched it against Alfred's head. The rest of his body still felt bruised, but his headache disappeared.

"_Who are you_?" Alfred asked, speaking in Atlantean and hoping that his pronunciation was understandable.

The man's eyes widened. "_You shouldn't be here. Go home_," he hissed, before disappearing back into the darkness. Alfred sat up, intending to chase after him, but by the time he staggered to his feet he realized he had no idea where the other man had run in the dark cave. The only light was at the top of the mound, where the explorers had made their campsite. The American slowly and unsteadily climbed his way out of the ditch. He saw the rest of the expedition sorting through the wreckage.

"_Verdammt_," Monika muttered, running a hand through her cropped blond hair. She tossed a broken tent into the pile of useless equipment. Alfred vaguely recognized it as _his_ tent.

The expedition's leader picked his way past the pile. He frowned and leaned against one of the remaining trucks before calling the explorers to gather around him. Where there should have been seven, there were only six. Gilbert frowned when he realized that Alfred was the one missing. "Someone should go find our navigator," he said, "...or at least find his _map_."

"Here I am!" Alfred called, enjoying the surprised looks. He wasn't _quite_ as incompetent as they assumed, although he had to admit to himself that the mysterious stranger had helped. Antonio whistled and stepped forward to check him for sprains and broken bones. Other than a bump on the head, he pronounced Alfred in surprisingly good condition. The American grinned. "Guess I've got a hard head," he joked.

"Our supplies aren't in such good condition, I'm afraid," Monika said, ticking off the list of lost supplies. She frowned. "We only have enough fresh water for a week. So we either push forward and hope to find more, or we go back."

"And my explosives are gone," Francis moaned, gesturing dramatically at the track's charred remains. Antonio patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

"If we head back now, we'll make it. It's the only guaranteed path," Monika said calmly.

"But we're so close!" Alfred protested. He pulled out his book and showed the map to Monika and Commander Gilbert. "We're _almost_ there."

"You said that _three_ days ago," Monika remarked.

Hoping to convince them to continue forward, Alfred decided to pull out his trump card. "Listen, I know this will sound crazy... but I saw one of them. An actual Atlantean. We _must_ be close. I can't believe there are still people living down here after all these years."

The others stared at him dubiously. "You hit your head pretty hard..." Toni murmured. He stepped forward and checked for bumps on Alfred's head.

Alfred pushed the doctor away and crossed his arms. "I know what I saw. He was a little older than me, with blue tattoos, and this glowing blue crystal around his neck." He decided not to mention the crystal's magical healing properties. Then he would _definitely_ sound crazy.

"A glowing blue crystal?" Antonio asked skeptically.

"Sounds about as believable as bugs that create fire," Angelique said dryly, gesturing to the camp and tents that had been reduced to ash and rubble in front of their eyes. Of course, some of the destruction had been caused by Francis' explosives, but most of it was the result of the firebugs.

Commander Gilbert leaned forward, his interest piqued by the word 'crystal.' He rubbed his chin and nodded to himself as he quickly made a decision. "We're continuing forward. Load up the trucks," he ordered. Monika nodded and began carrying out his orders, while some of the others opened their mouths to protest.

"I'm too pretty to die," Francis complained.

"Yeah, I didn't sign up for a suicide mission," Angelique added, crossing her arms. "The whole point of getting paid is being able to spend it once we get back home. I don't like the odds of relying on _him_," she pointed to Alfred, "to find fresh water before we die of thirst down here."

Gilbert lifted up his hand and cut them off. "This isn't a democracy, people," he reminded them coldly.

"Don't panic. I know where we're going," Alfred said, trying to reassure the other explorers. Their expressions remained dubious. He glanced down at his book, gulped, and pointed out the correct direction on their path to Atlantis. Despite their dire straights, he still felt excited that every step was taking him closer to the ruins of the ancient city and the mysterious people who still lived there. He had so many questions for them.

Gilbert nodded. "You all heard our navigator. Get a move out!"

Still grumbling, the group of explorers nonetheless obeyed. Gilbert was a terror when you got on his bad side. Monika left to pack up the remaining food and break the news to Feliciano that he couldn't cook any more pasta because it was a waste of water. Then she reminded him not to waste water by crying.

Once the trucks were loaded and ready to go, the commander turned to face Alfred and smiled. "Now, tell me more about this crystal..."

* * *

Alfred spent the next night sleeping next to the fire. He stared into the cavernous blackness and hoped that Atlantis didn't have any new nighttime surprises for them. Even though he was hungry and tired from a long day of travelling, they were close enough to arrive at the lost city the next day and he felt too excited to fall sleep. It felt like Christmas Eve and he had just learned that Santa Claus was _real_.

A few of the other explorers didn't have the same problem with falling asleep. Feliciano and Antonio were already snoring merrily on the other side of the fire. But Francis and Angelique were still awake. They spoke quietly in French, trying not to disturb the sleepers.

"_I just hope I make it back to my papa's shop_," Angelique said. "_With the money I make from this job, we could even open that second shop he's always wanted!_"

"_I'd like to see my sweetheart again_."

"_Which one_?" she asked with a wry grin.

"_All of them_," Francis replied. He rolled onto his side and gave Alfred a discerning look before switching back to English. "What about you... do you have anyone waiting for you back home?"

Alfred frowned as he thought about the question. For some unexplainable reason, young women had never appealed to him. At least not enough to distract him from his books. The few who tried to get to know him were soon turned off by his Atlantis obsession. "Not really," he replied. "My grandpa raised me after my parents died, and he passed away last year. I wish he could have seen all this. He always believed in Atlantis, you know, and he did most of the research into this book," he added, pointing to his journal. After the firebug attack, he had started sleeping with the book at his side. He didn't want to risk losing it again.

"You want to make him proud," Angelique commented, nodding to herself because Alfred's obsession with the lost city finally made sense, as did his willingness to jump into a fiery tent to rescue a book. They both wanted to help fulfill the dreams of the people who had raised them. For her, it was running her father's machine shop after he retired, and for Alfred it was discovering an ancient civilization. The only difference was a matter of scale.

Alfred nodded eagerly. "Yeah, that's what this is all about, right? The thrill of discovery, broadening the expanse of human knowledge, seeking out new civilizations." He looked around the fire and started to frown as he noticed the unenthusiastic faces surrounding him. "Unless, uh, you're just in it for the money?"

"Money," Angelique immediately agreed.

"Money," Antonio called from the other side of the fire. Their conversation must have woken him up.

"Pasta," Feliciano murmured in his sleep.

Francis rubbed his chin. "I'm going to say... money."

Alfred sighed and lay back on his bedroll. His fellow explorers weren't as excited about archaeology as he would have liked, but once they saw the city, he was sure they would understand. He had studied Atlantis his whole life, and in just a few hours he would _finally_ have a chance to see it and even meet real Atlanteans! He hoped that he would see his mysterious benefactor again. There was so much he wanted to ask him. Still jittery with excitement, Alfred eventually managed to fall asleep.

* * *

A pinprick of light in the distance was the first sign that they had found the lost city. Alfred had to remind himself to breath as they crossed the vast cavern. Pillars had been erected in the four corners and even from a distance Alfred could tell they were covered with intricate carvings and Atlantean runes. The team drove directly for the light and excitedly watched it grow larger and brighter. They pulled short, however, when they discovered a deep chasm blocking them from reaching the other side.

Alfred glanced down, but his flashlight wasn't powerful enough to show the bottom. At the other end of the chasm, he could see sunshine pouring out of a narrow crevice, like the light at the end of the tunnel, but he didn't have a way to cross the gap. Monika frowned as she sent a flare down into the chasm and watched it drop for a very long time.

"This must be Santorini!" Alfred cried out excitedly. He grinned at the other explorers and explained, "It was the volcano that sent Atlantis to the bottom of the sea."

"Vol... cano?" Feliciano asked, his voice trembling.

"Oh, don't worry. It only explodes once every few centuries."

"And when did it explode last?" Angelique asked.

"1707."

They all did the math in their heads and realized that they would _really_ like to cross the chasm and get outside of the slumbering volcano. Francis attached a few of his remaining explosives to one of the pillars, while Monika held Alfred back. The American struggled furiously, once he realized what Francis planned, but he couldn't overpower the lieutenant. "That's a valuable artifact! It took _years_ to create!" he protested.

Francis set off the explosives and they all watched the pillar break and create a bridge across the chasm. Francis smiled. "Look, a valuable bridge. Took me ten seconds tops."

Alfred broke free and seriously considered punching Francis in the face. Then he realized that he was only thirty steps away from fulfilling his life's dream and he was probably too weak for a punch to matter anyway. So instead of attacking the explosives expert, he dashed across the bridge, leaving the other explorers behind. For once, his scrawny build came in handy, allowing him to slip through the narrow crevice without any problem.

At first, the light at the other side blinded his eyes. His eyes slowly adjusted, allowing him to make out general shapes and colors. Alfred realized that the cavern was so large that he could barely tell it was a cavern at all. The ceiling stood more than a mile tall, with the center of the dome lit by a glowing light that resembled a miniature sun. The walls shimmered with a pale blue light that resembled the sky. Beneath the light lay Atlantis in all its glory. The island city rested at the center of a great lake. The lake rose above the floor of the cavern, creating a moat of waterfalls at the edge with water continuously cascading into the depths below. Billows of fog and steam rose up from the waterfalls, looking like clouds.

"Wow..." Alfred whispered, amazed at the beauty and grandeur of the lost city. It was everything he had ever dreamed it would be and so much more. He barely noticed as the other explorers arrived behind him.

"Looks like you owe me ten francs, Franny," Antonio said with a grin. He clapped Alfred on the shoulder. "I always knew you could do it, Al!"

Their elation at finding the city (and a source of fresh water!) was short lived. "We have company," Gilbert murmured to Monika as Atlanteans warriors leapt out from behind them, quickly surrounding the seven explorers. Clad in masks, armed with spears, and adorned with blue paint and tattoos, the warriors looked ready for a fight.

Alfred felt his heart race in excitement. The warriors wore little clothing and had all sorts of interesting and beautiful tattoos painted on their bare chests. He felt a strange new desire kindle in his heart. It was the thrill of discovery mixed with something _more_. He couldn't even give it a name. Ignoring the threatening spears, Alfred stepped closer to one of the warriors and started examining his weaponry and clothing. He dimly realized that the Atlantean was actually a bit shorter than he was, although the mask made it difficult to judge heights. His gaze drifted downward to admire the man's lean legs. He probably should have been studying the man's strange tunic instead, but they were really nice legs.

Still confused by his thoughts, Alfred forcefully pulled his gaze upward and refocused on studying the man's tattoos. He leaned closer to see if he could read them. He wanted to _touch_ them (or maybe he just wanted to touch the man's lean muscles?), but even Alfred realized that wouldn't be a good idea.

"Wowzers... I think we've just made the archeological discovery of the century," Alfred said excitedly. He reassured himself that he was simply excited because of the discovery and not for any other reason.

The warrior responded by roughly pushing Alfred away and then poking him in the chest with the spear. The man spoke and Alfred gasped. He _recognized_ that voice and accent. It was definitely the young man who had healed him with a crystal after their camp caught fire.

"_You are trespassers here. Lay down your weapons_," the man said, his voice low and harsh. He then gave out orders to the other Atlantean warriors, speaking too quickly for Alfred to understand. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good.

Alfred stared blankly. Caught up in the excitement of discovery, confused by the unfriendly welcome, and still a little lost in thought over a pair of nice legs, he found that words failed him, a rather sad state of affairs for an expert linguist. He couldn't understand why on earth the Atlanteans would be unhappy to see them. "Huh?" he asked.

Angelique arched an eyebrow and sighed. Even though she didn't speak a word of Atlantean, she provided a surprisingly accurate translation:

"I think your 'great archeological discovery' wants to take us prisoner," she said.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Author's Notes**

And now for my second Hetalia / Disney crossover... Atlantis!

. . .

**Cast List**

Alfred as Milo Thatch  
Gilbert as Commander Rourke  
Monika as Lieutenant Helga  
Francis as Vinny (plus Mole's lechery)  
Antonio as Dr. Sweet  
Feliciano as Cookie  
Angelique as Audrey (plus Mrs. Packard's deadpan humor)

I wonder who Kida is? XD

. . .

Reviews, comments, and critiques always appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Being a prisoner was easier than Alfred expected. The Atlanteans circled the explorers and led them across a rope bridge to the edge of the lake and then along a walkway into the heart of the city. In his excitement to finally see Atlantis with his own eyes, Alfred promptly forgot that he was even being held prisoner.

He craned his neck to take in all of the sights, gasping in awe at the amazing stone architecture. The city spiraled upward, each tier filled with more beautiful designs than the last. With their intricately carved columns, the buildings looked heavily inspired by Grecian styles. Or perhaps it was the other way around. But once Alfred looked past the buildings themselves, he began to see small signs of decay—cracks in the path, broken statues, and vines crawling up the walls.

Atlantis looked like it had been abandoned years ago, but that wasn't possible because he could see people milling all around. Dressed casually in blue and green cloth, they carried baskets of fish and jugs of water. Children approached the path and glanced up in curiosity at the foreigners in their strange clothes before running away when their parents called them back. Alfred itched to write down the observations in his notebook, but the guards had taken his book and clearly wanted them to keep moving along.

They took a turn before reaching the top tier and the explorers found themselves in a large, empty room with no windows. Judging by the lack of carvings and the jugs stacked in the corner, Alfred assumed that it was storage room of some sort. Several warriors peeled off from the group, leaving the rest to stand watch.

Gilbert and Monika had been whispering to each other in German as they walked across the bridge into the city proper. They resumed their conversation in a corner of the room. Suddenly Alfred found that he could understand their discussion even though he didn't speak German.

"...not supposed to be people down here," Monika said softly.

"So what? It changes nothing," Gilbert replied.

The rest of the explorers turned back to look at them in surprise. "Did I... just learn German?" Feliciano asked in confusion.

Alfred remembered something he had read about the mystical power source of Atlantis. "No, Feli, that's not you," he explained. "That's the Heart of Atlantis. It has all sorts of powers: it can translate any language, cure almost any wound, give the power of flight... it's amazing. I bet it took a few minutes to learn the language, but now it can translate it flawlessly."

"Translation, huh? You can have mentioned that one sooner," Gilbert said, a hint of reproach in his voice.

Alfred was too excited to feel guilty. "Atlantis used to be a center for learning," he said. "People from all around the world would come here to study, so they needed an easy way to communicate. I wish I could have seen it at its height."

He walked over to the corner and picked up one of the jugs. He admired the geometric patterns and fish designs, then paused to read the inscription at the lip of the jug. It admonished that knowledge, like water, should flow freely and make the world flourish. Alfred smiled to himself, wistfully imagining what it would be like to live in a society that valued knowledge over physical prowess.

Alfred looked up when he heard someone walking into their makeshift jail and nearly dropped the jug. It was the Atlantean who had healed him on the cave floor. But this time, he wasn't wearing his mask. Now, in the full light, Alfred could see all of the features he had missed before. The young man had pale blond hair that looked almost white compared to his tanned skin. His mouth formed a straight line, and Alfred suddenly wondered what he looked like when he smiled. Most of the Atlanteans had thick eyebrows; this man's eyebrows nearly covered his entire forehead. Caterpillars jumped to mind, but for some reason, so did the words 'attractive' and 'distinguished.'

The warriors seemed to wear simple togas, but this Atlantean had changed into more complicated garb. Blue and green fabric draped over his right shoulder and circled his waist, all of it held in place with a thin golden chain. The toga still ended mid-thigh, but now he wore sandals with leather straps that formed a complicated crisscross pattern up to his knee. Gold bracelets and armbands adorned his limbs. Alfred wondered why he found himself so interested in another man's clothing and suddenly wished he was wearing something nicer himself, instead of a rather dirty shirt, ripped trousers, and a pair of suspenders.

"One of you must come with me to speak with the council," the Atlantean announced. His eyes might have briefly flickered to Alfred, but it happened so quickly that Alfred wasn't sure it had actually happened.

The explorers all turned to look at Gilbert. He smiled and nodded his head at Alfred. "Why don't you go, Jones? You're the one who understands the culture."

"Really?" Alfred asked. "I mean... yeah! I can handle this."

He eagerly followed his guide, climbing the stairs that led to the rotunda at the top of the island. A circle of tall, stone pillars held up a golden dome. The spaces between the pillars gave a breathtaking 360 degree view of the city and water below. Alfred paused to admire the sight before his guide nudged him forward. Turning to the center of the building, he saw a round pool directly underneath a circular hole at the very top of the dome. The light from the strange sun-like object in the sky illuminated the pool, making it look like it was glowing. Seven Atlanteans waited for them, sitting in a half-circle of chairs. This had to be the council.

"Uh, hello," Alfred said, waving his hand and smiling cheerfully. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Alfred F. Jones," he said, remember his manners. He tried to relax. Really, this was just like asking the funding committee for money to launch an Atlantis expedition. Except that the funding committee had changed the meeting time without telling him, explaining later that they didn't want to listen to any more of his 'crazy ramblings.' Since he actually had an audience this time, he was _already_ doing better.

"What is your purpose here?" the woman sitting in the center chair asked. He knew that she was speaking in Atlantean, but he also understood her without having to translate the sentence in his own mind. It was like the meaning was being sent directly to his brain. The Heart of Atlantis was amazing.

Alfred ticked off his goals on his fingers. "Well, find the lost city of Atlantis, for starters. So that's one mission accomplished! And then learn everything there is to know about this place, write down a lot of notes, take it back with me, publish a big book, prove my gramps right, and reintroduce the world to Atlantis. Uh, if that's okay with you." He gave them his widest smile. "I can't believe I'm actually here! It's just... wow."

"Who sent you?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Oh, well, I tried to get funding from the Smithsonian Institute, funny story there, they ended up saying no, but eventually an eccentric friend of my grandfather stepped in and provided most of the money. Something about a lost bet..."

She gave him a puzzled look. "A smith named Sonian?"

Alfred realized he needed to provide a little more background. He coughed, rubbed the back of his head nervously, and started over. "I'm from the United States," he explained. "America. It's across the ocean." He pointed in the direction that he thought was west. "The Smithsonian is our national museum and it's supposed to increase and spread knowledge. And you can't get a place more knowledgeable than Atlantis."

The council members shared confused looks. "I would have expected an envoy from Crete or Sumer," one said. "Perhaps even Egypt. Were they destroyed as well?"

"Egypt? It's controlled by the British now." He wasn't surprised that the Atlanteans wanted an update on the past three millennia, but geography and international politics had never been his strong points. "I'm not sure about the other two," he admitted. He tried to answer their questions about other ancient empires as best he could.

"We'll need to think on this," a third councilor said, after they finished picking Alfred's brain with questions. She turned to face the Atlantean warrior who stood behind Alfred. "Make sure our guests are treated well."

Alfred grinned, pleased to learn that they weren't prisoners, they were _guests_. His fellow explorers were going to be so impressed with his diplomacy skills.

* * *

His fellow explorers _were_ impressed... by the food that the Atlanteans brought to them for lunch. Several young women set a number of heaping platters of food on the small plaza outside the storage room and then left. Francis looked sorry to see them go. Two guards stood nearby, making it clear that they didn't want the foreigners to wander around the island without an escort, but they otherwise ignored the group. It was hard to consider the group a threat when Alfred was its representative.

"Is this an octopus?" Feli asked, lifting up a purple squid with a lot of legs. He delicately nibbled the edge. "I think it'd go well with pasta."

Antonio laughed. "You think everything goes well with pasta."

"I'd pair it with a white wine," Francis suggested.

"This fish is amazing!" Angelique gushed, finishing off her third whole fish. "I should see if they'll lend me a spear so I can do some fishing while I'm here."

Antonio poked some of the food with a stick. "What's this strange burnt pile?" he asked.

"Some tribes offer weird foods as a test. Maybe it's something like that?" Alfred suggested. He gave one of the burnt pieces a cautious bite and then spit it out. "Ugh, whatever it is, it's _terrible_."

One of the guards rushed over and took that platter away. "Oh, this isn't food. It's... uh... coal. It got here by mistake." He handed the plate to another guard to throw away and whispered, "I thought they banned him from the kitchen!"

Gilbert carefully watched the guard leave to dispose of the inedible food. "Feli, I think you're absolutely right about the pasta. Why don't you talk to the guard to see if you can make it for dinner? We should share what we have," he suggested.

Feliciano nodded eagerly. "Pasta, pasta, pasta," he murmured happily to himself. He walked over and began talking to the guard with loud, animated gestures.

Gilbert immediately turned his attention to Alfred. "It seems a shame to sit here when all of Atlantis is around us, waiting to be explored," he said, gesturing to the buildings all around them.

The American slurped up his octopus dish and nodded. "Yeah, I think I'll ask for a tour once lunch is over. I really want to look at some of the these places more closely!"

"Oh, I'm sure they wouldn't care if you took a peek right now. They were friendly when you went to speak with them earlier. Perhaps you'll even have a chance to study the Heart of Atlantis."

"Do you think so?" Alfred asked eagerly.

"Absolutely! Thanks for volunteering," Gilbert replied with a smile. Alfred suddenly found himself pulled to his feet, frog marched to the edge of the clearing, and pushed through a gap between two bushes. He opened his mouth to complain that he hadn't finished eating lunch, but Gilbert was already gone. The entire escape had taken fewer than five seconds and had involved no effort on Alfred's part.

The American thought about going back and finishing his meal, but the allure of Atlantis called him forward. He walked along a narrow gap and tried to stay hidden amongst the rocks and plants, though he mostly just succeeded in tripping over his own feet. Alfred stepped out of the corridor and then realized he didn't have a single clue where he was going. He wondered how long it would take him to find the one Atlantean who had seemed a bit helpful earlier. Then he caught a whiff of cooking food and decided the best place to start would be the kitchens.

As it happened, the young man found him. One second Alfred was walking along carefully, trying to be sneaky as he studied the murals and writing on the walls, the next he felt his body pulled back and a hand clasped across his mouth.

"How did you get out here?" a voice asked sharply in his ears. "Come on, follow me before someone else sees you."

Alfred nodded and tried to keep up as the other man led him to a small grotto, hidden from view by a luxuriant curtain of vines. At the other side of the alcove, a gap between two moss-covered rocks offered a view of the waves crashing below. He could even see fishing boats in the distance.

"I was just looking for you!" Alfred said excitedly. "I've got so many questions about this place. What was that crystal you used to heal me? How long were you tailing us? Have you ever found a way to the surface through the volcano? How do you have such a nice tan when there isn't any sun down here? Actually where does all of this light coming from? Does it dim at night? Why is the—"

The young man pressed his finger against Alfred's mouth to get the American to stop talking. Alfred promptly shut up and started wondering why his heart was beating so rapidly. His brain kept bringing irrelevant details to his attention—like how close the Atlantean was standing and how nice the light dusting of freckles on the young man's nose and cheeks looked. The man nudged Alfred deeper into the grotto, where prying ears couldn't hear them, and didn't seem to notice the American's close scrutiny.

The Atlantean examined Alfred from his head to his toes, sizing him up. "You're a scholar, correct?" he asked. "Judging by your diminished physique and large forehead, you're suited for little else."

"Uh... yes?" Alfred replied. He was pretty sure he was being insulted. He just hoped that the Atlantean wasn't planning on giving him a wedgie.

"Good. I have questions for you too," he said. "I propose a trade: my answers in exchange for yours."

Alfred nodded. The trade sounded fair to him and he did owe the other man for healing him. "Okay, can I go first?" He thought through his previous list of burning questions and realized there was something he wanted to know even more. "What's your name?" he asked.

The Atlantean blinked, and gave Alfred a strange look. "_Arthoúros_," he replied. "Although in your language it would be Arthur." He walked over to the cave wall and pulled the Shepherd's Journal out of a hidden corner. "I wanted to ask you about this."

"You found it! I was wondering where it had gone!" Alfred cried as he grabbed the journal and clasped it to his chest, pleased that his grandfather's work hadn't been lost. He'd been worried about the book ever since it had been confiscated.

Arthur crossed his arms and gave Alfred a searching look. "Did you use those maps to find us?" he asked. "Why are you looking for Atlantis?"

Alfred clasped his hands together and grinned; he was always excited to talk about his academic mission, so he didn't care that Arthur had technically asked two questions. "The Shepherd's Journal says that your city possessed a power source of some kind, more powerful than steam or coal or even the internal combustion engines. Shepherd called it the 'Heart of Atlantis.' If I could study it and duplicate it, there'd be enough power to do... just about anything!" he explained, eyes glittering in excitement. "Everyone could have electricity, we could cure disease. I think it might actually be a solution for world peace."

Arthur snorted. "I doubt it."

Alfred frowned slightly. People often called him naive and idealistic, but he liked to think of himself as believing the best in other people. "Anyway the maps and directions in here are pretty good," he said, flipping open the journal to the page that showed the path to Atlantis. "So long as you hold it the right way," he added under his breath. He looked up to find Arthur gaping at him. He ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure he didn't have octopus tentacles stuck somewhere.

"You _can_ read it," Arthur said, his voice almost reverent.

"Yep!" Alfred smiled, always pleased to have a chance to show off his knowledge. "My grandfather was the one who discovered the translation key, and I've been improving on his work ever since." He pointed to one of the pages near the beginning. "See, part of what the Shepherd wrote down was the same inscription in both Atlantean and Ancient Greek. From that, it was just a matter of work."

"Theodore Shepherd... yes, I remember him." Arthur glanced up at the grotto ceiling, his gaze distant. "We found him raving about falling through a crack in the earth about two years ago. I had wondered what became of him after he slipped away."

Alfred gaped. "T-t-that's not possible," he stuttered. "He wrote this journal more than 300 years ago! How could that be possible? He has to be dead by now."

Arthur sat down on a stone and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting."

The American shook his head, refusing to believe something so outlandish. "Maybe it was someone else?" he suggested. "Or maybe his ghost?" Alfred shivered. No one had warned him that Atlantis might be filled with _ghosts_.

Arthur chuckled at Alfred's frightened response. "He seemed real enough to me."

Alfred sucked in a breath as another idea occurred to him. "Perhaps... the Heart of Atlantis controls time too?" he suggested. Given what he'd read of the Heart's immense power, it seemed possible. He knelt down and scratched out some numbers in the sand that covered the cave floor. "Okay, 300 years, so a little under 2 years would be a factor of 150. Which means... no, that _can't _be right." Alfred frowned, willing the calculations to make sense.

"What can't be right?"

"For every two days here... a year passes in the outside world," Alfred replied. He did a bit more math on the floor and came to a shocking realization. "But if that's right... the eruption that sank Atlantis was only 20 years ago here." He glanced up in Arthur in shock. It was hard to guess the Atlantean's age, but he definitely looked older than that. "Do... do you _remember_ it?"

At first, Alfred didn't think that Arthur would answer the question, and he wished he hadn't asked. The Atlantean fell silent, seemingly lost in thought. Still gazing into the distance, he began to speak quietly, "I was three when the cataclysm happened, so I don't remember much. I do remember a flash of light so bright it was like being inside the sun. And then... well, this was the only island that survived. The Empire of Atlantis used to be an archipelago. This was just a simple fishing village at the edge. We... we lost so much."

"I'm sorry," Alfred replied. He didn't like seeing that unhappy look on Arthur's face and this was clearly an unpleasant memory. Trying to comfort the other man, he scooted closer, and patted Arthur's knee. For once, Alfred didn't feel the need to fill the air with the sound of his voice. He'd always known that something terrible had happened to Atlantis, but it was one thing to read about it in a book, and quite another to see the sorrow of someone who had experienced it firsthand. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"Yes," Arthur said. "Teach me how to read."

* * *

At first Alfred had assumed that Arthur wanted to learn how to read English, but Arthur immediately corrected him. Before the cataclysm, only priests, scholars, and the royal family learned how to read. None of them had survived, leaving the remaining Atlanteans with no knowledge of their own written language. All of that knowledge... locked away because no one could read it. Trying to uncover their secrets, Arthur had spent years staring at murals, attempting to puzzle out the system. Those efforts served him now: he was already familiar with all 29 letters of the Atlantean alphabet.

Fortunately, Atlantean was a truly phonetic language, making it much easier to learn. After Alfred spent an hour drawing letters in the sand and teaching Arthur what sounds each represented, Arthur felt ready to test his knowledge. They snuck out of the grotto and Arthur led the American linguist to a particularly verbose mural in a secluded area.

Arthur stared at the writing on the wall and delicately traced the Atlantean letters with his finger. He'd learned the letters in his own name incredibly quickly—leading Alfred to suspect that someone had taught Arthur how to spell his name at some point. Which likely meant that he was the child of priests, scholars, or the royal family.

"The... hart..." Arthur said, moving his finger below the words as he sounded out the letters, "of... The Heart of Atlantis."

Alfred smiled and nodded. "You're just guessing that second part," he teased.

"These are the letters?" Arthur asked intently as he turned to face the American. "If I found these letters in other murals, you could translate the nearby words for me?"

"Of course," Alfred readily agreed. He stepped next to Arthur, pressing their shoulders together, and read the rest of the sentence. "The Heart of Atlantis rests in the arms of her king." He tapped his finger on the final word. "See this cartouche? This word means 'king' instead of 'leader' because it has the marking of the royal family next to it."

"The three vertical lines?" Arthur asked.

"Yep."

Alfred was going to make a joke about how the symbol sort of resembled Arthur's thick eyebrows, but he found himself distracted by an image on a nearby frieze that showed two men kissing. "Is that, uh, normal here?" he asked.

Arthur followed his gaze. "Kissing?" he asked in a puzzled tone. "Of course."

"No, I meant, um..." Alfred stumbled over his words and blushed. A thousands thoughts whirled through his mind, peculiar desires that he had long suspected but could never quite name. He found himself unable to finish his question. "Never mind."

Arthur shrugged and glanced up at the fake-sun. "I'd best return you to your group before the guards notice you that you're missing," he said.

* * *

Alfred slipped through the gap in the bushes and joined his fellow explorers. He suddenly understood why no one had come looking for him—Francis had pulled out a deck of cards and convinced the group _and_ the guards to play a game of strip poker. The game was going well for Monika, who still had on all of her clothes, although one tank-top strap had slipped down over her shoulder. When the other players tried to call her bluff, she calmly laid down a flush consisting of five hearts.

The others groaned. Angelique tossed in a sock and Antonio took off his shirt. The guards added sandals to the center pile of clothing. Francis, the one wearing the least amount of clothing, frowned. He stood up and slipped off his trousers, revealing the rose-print briefs underneath. It was his only remaining article of clothing.

While the group was still distracted, Alfred ducked into the storage room and leaned against the wall. He mindlessly paged through the Shepherd's Journal as he tried to process everything he had learned from Arthur. Alfred had studied Atlantis for years, and yet the lost city still continued to surprise him. He hadn't expected people, and he _definitely_ had not expected to meet a person who had been alive when Atlantis sunk beneath the sea. He hoped that he would have a chance to speak with someone older, someone who might remember more. Thinking about the cataclysm provided a good distraction from his _other_ thoughts. Alfred had always known he wasn't like the other boys, but he was starting to think that it was more than just his desire to bury his head in a book. He felt like he had been handed the key to a treasure chest he hadn't even known existed.

Alfred looked up when he heard Gilbert approach. "Did you have a chance to study the Heart of Atlantis?" the Prussian man asked with a friendly grin.

"Of course!" Alfred lied. For some reason, he didn't want to tell Gilbert about his enjoyable afternoon with Arthur. "Uh, I think it has some sort connection to the royal family," he extemporized. "They keep it near the royal chambers, but they didn't want to tell me more. Also, there was something _else_ that I learned..."

"Not now, Alfred," Gilbert said, waving away the American's next comment. He rubbed his hands together and called to Monika as he walked outside. Alfred shrugged and turned back to his journal. The next day would be soon enough to tell Gilbert about the island's odd time effects. It wasn't as if they were in a rush to leave.

Alfred had a lot of thinking to do, and for once his thoughts didn't involve the lost city of Atlantis...

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Author's Notes**

I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep this story in 1914 (because I'm not clearly bothering with historically accurate dialogue), but I decided that I liked the idea of Alfred being incredibly clueless about his own sexuality. I don't like in-denial Alfred, but I do kinda like I-didn't-even-know-gay-was-an-_option_ Alfred.

Also, first major plot change! Atlantis is in a pocket dimensions where time flows at a different speed. I think it makes more sense than having the Atlanteans sit around and not do much for several millennia. (In the theory of relativity, the concept is called "time dilation," although it also involves near light-speed travel.)


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred spent the rest of the afternoon in an uncharacteristically quiet mood. He had come to Atlantis seeking answers, but instead he found himself asking new questions. While the rest of his peers had eventually decided that girls didn't have cooties after all, Alfred had remained indifferent to the fairer sex. He had retreated into his books and spent time with others who shared his passion. He had always assumed that his feelings for other men was a desire for close friendship. But on closer examination, he decided that friends didn't admire each other's bright eyes and soft hair and lean muscles. He felt like he had been given a key to a house that he didn't even know existed and he was excited and scared to find out what was locked inside.

He watched as the mysterious light source floating above the island slowly began to dim—answering one of Alfred's many questions about the lost city. Yes, the sun-like glowing crystal in the sky _did_ mimic night and day. It was nice to have one answer, since everything else in Atlantis just raised more questions.

* * *

As evening fell, Alfred and the other explorers eagerly joined the Atlanteans for dinner on the beach. Feliciano provided pasta and marinara sauce while Angelique helped spear more fish to roast over the fire. Delicious smells wafted upward from the cooking fires, giving the gathering a festive air.

As tempting as the food looked, Alfred had other plans. He pushed his glasses up to get a better view of the crowd.

"Excuse me, excuse me," he said, ducking his way through the crowd as he searched for Arthur. For once, even the smell of tasty food wasn't enough to distract Alfred from his goal. He arrived at the edge of the crowd and spotted Arthur, carrying a platter of what looked like blackened charcoals and trailing behind a group of Atlanteans.

Alfred waved and caught Arthur's attention. He was pleasantly surprised when Arthur actually smiled at him and waved back. Most people quickly grew tired of Alfred's endless chatter about his academic research and hobbies, so Alfred was grateful that Arthur still wanted to talk with him. There was something he _really liked_ about the Atlantean, although it was a hard feeling to describe. They sat together on driftwood at the edge of the beach, far enough away from the gathering that the sound of the waves lapping on the beach covered the murmur of the crowd.

"Would you like a _sgonn_?" Arthur asked as he set the platter between them and offered Alfred one of the strange briquettes. "They all disappeared at lunch, so I thought that you would enjoy some more."

Alfred gulped as he accepted the blackened food and slowly lifted it to his mouth. He wanted to toss it away, but Arthur was looking at him so intensely that he found himself bringing the food to his mouth. Alfred took a small bite and chewed slowly. He tried not to wince. It tasted just as awful as it had at lunch.

"Do you like it?" Arthur asked, leaning forward.

"It's uh... well, I've never had anything like it before," Alfred replied with a forced smile. "Is this what Atlanteans consider tasty?" he asked.

Arthur huffed. "Of course it is!"

"Well, it's... really... good," Alfred said, forcing himself to eat another one. If it was something that Atlanteans liked, then he wanted to enjoy it too! Still, he could feel the black lumps settling in his stomach like lead, and he wondered if the magical healing crystals would be able to cure his inevitable stomach ache. Hoping to look at anything other than the sgonns, he glanced up and noticed two women at the edge of the beach, holding hands and disappearing into the bush. "Where are they going?" he wondered aloud.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "Didn't your parents explain sex to you?" he asked dryly.

Alfred coughed, nearly choking on the sgonn. He felt heat rising in his cheeks at the direct way Arthur approached the subject. Alfred had run across hints about the birds and the bees a few times in his 19 years, but it had always been in the context of 'when a man loves a woman,' never two women loving each other. And he still didn't understand what any of it had to do with birds _or_ bees. "I was raised by my grandfather," he said softly, hoping that answered all of Arthur's questions.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, patting Alfred's shoulder sympathetically. "I lost my father in the cataclysm."

"That must be hard," Alfred replied, feeling a stab of guilt because he kept bringing up things that reminded Arthur of bad memories. He wondered if it would be possible to talk about puppies and rainbows for the rest of the evening.

Arthur shrugged. "No harder than what anyone else endured."

Life had gone on for the remaining Atlanteans. Compared to their glorious achievements of the past—spreading knowledge and exploring the known world—it was a simple existence. But the people were glad to be alive and even underground they seemed to have more than enough food and water to survive. Alfred wondered what role the Heart of Atlantis played in the island's continued survival. As he pondered these questions, Alfred forced himself to chew on the tough, crunchy sgonns.

While the explorers and Atlanteans continued to eat and mingle, he and Arthur ate through the entire platter of sgonns and by the end of it Alfred had never been so happy to run out of food in his life.

"I don't think I could eat another bite!" Alfred said with feeling.

"Then are you ready for some swimming?" Arthur suddenly asked. Instead of waiting for a response, he grabbed Alfred's hand and pulled him to the edge of the clearing.

Alfred sucked in a breath and felt a tingling sense of anticipation. Wondering what Arthur had planned, he followed the Atlantean through narrow stone paths to a waterfall on the other side of the island. He was somewhat disappointed when Arthur explained that he had found more murals discussing the Heart of Atlantis that he wanted Alfred to translate. Alfred hadn't been expecting anything in particular, but a small part of him had started to hope that Arthur was interested in more than just his translating skills.

Still, he decided that translating murals was also fun. Maybe if he was lucky he'd see more murals of men kissing. He really liked those. With that pleasant thought in mind, Alfred followed Arthur behind a waterfall, leading them to a hidden cave on the other side. Inside the cave, Arthur's glowing blue pendent was the only source of light.

"You _can_ swim, right?" Arthur asked as he slipped off his toga, revealing the green loincloth underneath and giving Alfred a full view of his shapely derriere as he waded into the water. "The murals are above water, but we need to swim to reach the cavern."

"Great gams," Alfred said, without even processing what he was saying. He blushed and quickly stuttered, "I-I mean, I can swim, uh, as great...as a clam."

"Clams don't swim," Arthur said as he turned around. He gave Alfred a sly look, suggesting that the Atlantean wasn't fooled by the last minute word-swap.

"Well sure, not the cave sediment bivalves that are attached to the substrate, but a number of species of marine bivalve mollusks in the family Pectinidae swim just dandy," Alfred replied, easily slipping into academic mode. Remembering that they were supposed to be translating murals and not discussing sea life, he hurriedly slipped off his suspenders and trousers, revealing the dull gray boxers underneath. Finally, he added his shirt and glasses to the pile of clothes. As Alfred waded in the water, he hoped that Arthur wasn't judging him for his pale stomach and lack of muscles.

With Arthur leading the way, they dived together into the water. They swam through a short tunnel, going down and then back up again. Alfred found himself reaching the edge of his lung capacity. He gasped for breath when their heads popped above water on the other side. Swimming forward, he followed the light of Arthur's pendant until he felt his feet touch the bottom of the cave floor. The tunnel angled upward, taking them into a dry cave.

"Just like a grease trap," Alfred murmured to himself. He borrowed Arthur's crystal to light up the cave and then leaned in to read all of the words on the walls. Alfred grinned in excitement as he read the description of the Heart of Atlantis and the crystals that powered the city. He'd caught pieces here and there, but this was the most complete exegesis he'd ever seen on the subject.

"What is it? What does it say?" Arthur demanded.

Alfred could feel Arthur grow increasingly restless next to him, but he finished reading the entire wall before he answered Arthur's questions. "It isn't what I thought," Alfred admitted breathlessly. "The glowey sun-thing above the city is like the battery, but the Heart is what _controls_ the power. These necklaces are little mini-conduits to the power and they let you control a small part of it too," he added, lifting up Arthur's necklace.

The next mural, located a little deeper in the cave, explained how the Heart of Atlantis could be used to transfer memories from one person to another. Alfred gasped in wonder, suddenly understanding how Atlantis had become a vast storehouse of knowledge. He excitedly explained it all to Arthur, who didn't seem surprised by the revelation.

"Yes, yes, it can transfer memories or remove them," Arthur said impatiently. "Does the mural say anything more about using the other powers?"

Alfred glanced back at the wall and read some more. "Not really. It does say that the ability to use the Heart is passed down the line of queens. And in times of danger, the Heart chooses a host." He paused. "It's weird, the mural talks about the Heart like it's, well, _alive_." Alfred eagerly continued to translate, excited to learn more about the city and its people. But he looked over at Arthur and could see this wasn't the answer the Atlantean was searching for.

The Atlantean scowled at the walls, as if he was angry at them for not giving up all of their secrets. There was clearly something Arthur wanted to know about the Heart of Atlantis, but it was hard to offer an answer when he didn't even know the question. Alfred knew he would gladly spill his secrets if Arthur directed that look at _him_. He found the other man's glaring expression to be strangely... cute.

"Maybe if you explained what exactly you're looking for, I could help you find it better," Alfred helpfully suggested. He thought that Arthur would brush off the suggestion. Nobody had much faith in Alfred, least of all Alfred himself. Yet instead of ignoring the idea, Arthur seemed to give it serious consideration. The Atlantean nodded once to himself, although he still gave Alfred a guarded look.

"Hmm. Yes, I am making this harder than it has to be. I think the Heart is connected to the cataclysm," he explained. "The bright light I saw during the cataclysm..." his voice dropped to a whisper, "I've seen it several other times since then. Once every few years I see the light and wake up in the rotunda with no memory of how I got there. Somehow I know that it's connected to the Heart."

Alfred nodded eagerly; he always felt excited when a particularly interesting puzzle dropped into his laps. Given the timing, he had long theorized that a volcanic explosion had destroyed Atlantis. Now he was starting to wonder if some larger force was at play. He eagerly began to lay out his plans to teach a few Atlantean children to recognize the letters that spelled 'Heart of Atlantis' and have them scour the island to identify all the murals with information about the Heart. Then once he read and translated them, they could interview people who remember the cataclysm and build a timeline. With a full understanding of the Heart's power, they would be able to develop a hypothesis about Arthur's mysterious condition.

Arthur coughed. "There's one constraint I haven't mentioned yet," he admitted. "The council is planning to send you away tomorrow."

Alfred blinked. "But... I thought they were happy to see us!" He gestured towards the beach where he had shared dinner with the Atlantean people. "Aren't we guests?"

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. "_Unwanted_ guests." His expression softened. "Don't take it personally. It's not you that the council fears—they're more worried about the information you could take back with you. The crystal and Heart are a tempting target for thieves and if we lost them..." Arthur didn't finish his last sentence. He didn't need to; Alfred knew that without the Heart the island would be destroyed by the next volcanic explosion. And given the differential passage of time, an explosion was sure to occur once every few years in Atlantis as centuries passed outside the protection of the glowing blue dome.

"Well... _shit_," Alfred said, feeling disappointed that he'd trekked all the way to Atlantis, only to spend just one day on the island. There was still so much more he wanted to know about the lost city and its inhabitants. Especially Arthur.

Alfred wanted to ask more about the council's plans, but he fell silent when they arrived in front of the strangest door Alfred had ever seen. It was a giant circle without a door handle or hinges.

"I've never been able to open it," Arthur admitted. He placed his hand at the center of the door and pushed. It refused to budge.

"Speak Friend and Enter," Alfred said, reading the Atlantean runes at the top of the door. He pursed his lips and decided that the literal approach was worth a try. "Okay, here goes. Uh, hello Mister Door. Could you let us in?" he asked.

The door stood silently.

"Please?" he added, remembering the magic word.

Still nothing happened.

At that point, Alfred noticed a small hole that looked about the same size as Arthur's crystal necklace. He inserted it and rotated the necklace, like he was trying to start a car. He and Arthur both tried to push open the door, but it remained firmly shut.

Alfred looked up at the four words and frowned. "Maybe 'speak' is a bad translation. It's more imperative... like 'say'. Say friend and enter." He suddenly laughed. "_Fílos_," he said. The Atlantean word for friend. They both stumbled forward as the door opened smoothly.

They crossed the threshold and found themselves in a tall cavern. Wavering blue light filtered into the room from a hole at the center of the ceiling. Alfred briefly wondered why Atlanteans liked blue glowing things so much. He also wondered why the shape of the room seemed somehow familiar. While Arthur cursed at the door under his breath for never opening for _him_, Alfred crossed the floor until he was standing directly under the hole. He craned his neck and looked up. He could see the dim sun-like crystal that floated above Atlantis through a tall pillar of water, which meant that they were standing directly under the round pool in the rotunda at the top of the island.

"Wow," Alfred murmured, wondering what prevented the water from pouring down on top of them.

"Less gawking, more translating," Arthur replied. Alfred joined Arthur and walked along the edge of the room and tried to find any mention of the Heart of Atlantis. He leaned close enough to read the text without his glasses. After he read a few panels he understood the purpose of the room.

"The entire history of Atlantis is written on these walls!" Alfred said excitedly. Behind him, he could hear Arthur slowly walking to the center of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, it looked like the Atlantean stood basked in light that glowed a little more brightly than it had just a moment before. Alfred dismissed it as a trick of the light. He rushed along the perimeter, quickly scanning the written history until he arrived at the most recent text. "In the year of the great rumbling, Queen Aliki fell gravely ill and prepared to pass the Heart to his son," he said, reading it out loud for Arthur. "As the people mourned, King Zabéta built a monument for her Queen, so that he would live forever in the people's memory." Alfred frowned as he reached a blank section of the wall. "That's it, that's the end." He thought it sounded a little confusing, and if Alfred was reading it correctly, the Queen was man and the King was a woman. Then again, Alfred had never been quite sure how Atlantean pronouns worked.

"We have forgotten so much," Arthur said. It sounded like his voice echoed across a great distance, something that the acoustics of the cave couldn't explain. Alfred turned around and stared in shock. He saw the other man standing in the blue pillar of light at the center of the room, his eyes aglow. "Something is wrong on the island," Arthur added, while Alfred continued to stare. "They are all slumbering. They should not be."

White wings sprouted from Arthur's back and held him aloft, hovering gently above the floor. Alfred's jaw dropped. For a few moments he just gaped, trying to figure out when Arthur had become an angel. Then he remembered that the Heart of Atlantis granted its people glowing energy and the power of flight. And the center of the island would be a secure place to hide it. He felt some of the puzzle pieces start to click into place. Yet if the Heart was appearing before him, that meant that Atlantis was in danger.

"Uh, hello," Alfred said, waving his hand and smiling uncertainly. "Am I talking to Arthur or the Heart of Atlantis?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Wow." Alfred had to stop himself from bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet when it started to sink in that he was actually _talking_ to the Heart of Atlantis. He was a researcher who had a chance to converse with his great archaeological discovery! Alfred also realized that this might be his best chance to answer Arthur's questions and his own. "Well, I can definitely go check on the people for you," he promised. "But first, uh, since you're here... if you want to shed any light on the cause of the cataclysm or Arthur's blackouts, that would be great."

Arthur shook his head sadly. "He is not safe here. Tell him that he must stay away from this cavern."

"Why?"

"Once fully merged, I cannot pull us apart," Arthur warned. "Promise you will tell him."

Alfred frowned. He wasn't particularly worldly-wise, but even he knew that 'stay away because I said so' wasn't an effective deterrent. After all, people had been trying to discourage him from pursuing Atlantis his whole life and it had never stopped him. He doubted it would stop Arthur either.

"Perhaps you are right," the entity admitted, as if it were reading Alfred's thoughts. The floating man fell silent and when he spoke again, it seemed to be with a different voice. "I tried to give the King what she sought. The effort left me weakened... and I failed in my duties. This tiny island was all I could save. I cannot let Arthur share his father's fate." Alfred could hear remorse and regret in the entity's voice. He wondered how one was supposed to comfort an ancient, mystical power source.

"As long as part of Atlantis survives, you can always rebuild," Alfred said reassuringly. Another idea occurred to him—a way he could help the people of Atlantis. "Listen, I want to help. You can transfer memories, right? Can you give them back the knowledge of their writing system?" he asked, tapping his head. "It's all right here."

The entity nodded. "Step closer."

Alfred followed the Heart's directions and found himself within the pillar of blue light. The transfer itself was painless, although he did feel a brief tickling at the back of his head. Task accomplished, he watched as Arthur closed his eyes and slowly descended. The young man's arms hung loosely at his sides and his head lolled back—he looked like he was sleeping. Arthur's wings disappeared just as his feet touched the ground. He swayed and Alfred reached out an arm to steady him.

Arthur's eyes blinked open, back to their normal shade. He gave Alfred a confused look and pushed him away. "What happened?" he asked.

"We found the Heart!" Alfred said excitedly. He ticked off the main points on his hands, trying not to forget anything. "One, it warned you not to come back here because bad stuff would happen. Two, the good news is that you should know how to read Atlantean now. Three, the bad news is that it thought there was something wrong with the people outside, and I promised to check on them so we should do that."

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. "Is this your attempt at humor?"

"It's no lie. Scout's honor!" Alfred held up the palm of his hand like he was reading to swear on the bible. Then he pursed his lips and reconsidered. "Well, not actually _Scout's _honor. I was never a scout. They said they didn't take pansies, which is weird because I'm not a flower." He realized that he was rambling, something he did when he was really excited or nervous or both. "But the _important_ point is that I'm not lying."

Arthur wasn't paying attention to his rambling. Arthur had frozen in place, staring at the writing on the walls. "The Heart of Atlantis rests in the arms of his king," he murmured.

Alfred frowned as he studied the words himself. "_His_ king?" he asked. "I thought it meant her." Translating Atlantean pronouns was hard. Both seemed like strange ways to refer to an object, but either option was slightly less strange now that he knew that the Heart of Atlantis could assume the form of a person.

"I can read it," Arthur whispered.

"So can it mean his _or_ her?"

"I can read it," Arthur repeated.

"His or her... and the Heart needs a host," Alfred said as he stepped closer to the wall. He'd always assumed that the Heart was an object, but now he started to realize that it seemed more like a _person_. He rubbed his chin in thought.

"I can actually _read_ it."

Alfred barely heard Arthur's voice over the sound of his own thoughts. "What if the Heart is the Queen when she... he merges with the power of the crystal?" he wondered out loud, staring at the wall and wishing it could give him answers. "If the Queen was dying when the volcano exploded, the Heart wouldn't have been strong enough to save the entire chain of islands. Arthur, I'm starting to think..." he turned around and noticed that Arthur was missing. "Arthur?"

The American felt a sudden stab of worry, hoping that Arthur remembered the Heart's warning about the possible danger outside. He hadn't been very clear in explaining what had happened when the Heart possessed Arthur. Hoping to catch up with the other man, Alfred ran through the door, raced along the corridor, and swam through the tunnel, grateful that his eyes had adjusted the darkness. Once back inside the cavern hidden behind the waterfall, he saw that Arthur's green and blue toga was missing. Alfred hurriedly donned his clothes and glasses, bringing the world back into sharp focus. He immediately crossed under the waterfall and hurried to catch up to Arthur.

Gasping for breath, Alfred ran back to the beach along the narrow, vine-strewn paths. The city seemed strangely silent. As soon as he burst through the bushes, he felt someone punch him in the stomach. Landing on his ass, he looked up into green eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he looked out across the beach and he felt the blood drain from his face. The sand was littered with sleeping Atlanteans.

"What happened?" Alfred asked.

"I don't know. Why don't _you_ tell _me_," Arthur replied angrily.

"I'd say it was something in the food," Alfred suggested. "Probably a sedative... in the pasta..." He realized with a growing sense of horror that none of the explorers were among the sleeping bodies. He smacked himself in the forehead, remembering how Gilbert had been so insistent on sharing their pasta. The Prussian's actions had seemed generous at the time, but in hindsight they took on a more sinister tone. Alfred felt sick to his stomach. "Oh my god, I'm such an _idiot_. They were only interested in money and I led them straight to the greatest archeological find of the century."

In the distance, Alfred could hear voices approaching.

Arthur glanced up and pulled Alfred into a hiding place amongst the vines and bushes. He clamped a hand over Alfred's mouth before Alfred could ask what was going on. A few seconds later, heard Gilbert and Monika talking as they combed the beach.

"I told you we should have warned him," Monika muttered. She bent down and checked a group of people near the edge of the beach.

"He would have blabbed," Gilbert replied dismissively. He turned over a sleeping body with his foot, only to growl in frustration when the skinny blond turned out to be an Atlantean. "With our luck he probably fell asleep on his way to the bathroom. We'll have to search this whole godforsaken island." The Prussian sighed. "I thought we'd be able to leave without the others throwing a fuss. Hell, he'd probably be happier here anyway."

Monika snorted derisively. "Yes, he can look for some 'warm brothers'."

Alfred narrowed his eyes as he watched Monika and Gilbert disappear around a bend in the beach. He wasn't going to let greedy mercenaries abscond with priceless artifacts, especially not when they were stealing from a group of people still suffering the aftereffects of a terrible cataclysm. Alfred's grandfather had taught him about more than just Atlantis. He had also taught him the difference between right and wrong.

As soon as Gilbert and Monika were safely out of sight, the American stood up and determinedly strode toward the walkway that would take him across the rope bridge and out of Atlantis. He needed the find the other explorers before it was too late.

"They went the other way," Arthur called as he jogged to catch up.

Alfred didn't turn around and he didn't stop. "I know," he replied. "But whatever they took will be stored in the trucks, and I bet I can convince the others to give it back."

Arthur looked at him in surprise and then grinned ruthlessly. "Do you have a plan?" he asked, bending down to grab a spear that was resting near some fishing equipment.

Alfred thought for a second. Despite his serious misgivings, he knew that he had to do the _right_ thing, even if it wasn't the _smart_ thing. He gulped. "Yeah. Don't get shot."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Oh hai there random LOTR and Vision of Escaflowne references.

"Warmer Bruder" (warm brother) is WWII-era German slang for gay men. It's somewhat derogatory. Schwul is the nicer term and it originally meant "sultry, hot, and humid." I hope someone has written a GerIta story about this :)


	4. Chapter 4

_[A/N: I want to reassure folks that this story will have a __**happy ending**__ for Alfred, Arthur, and Atlantis. That said, this chapter is T-rated for violence.]_

Alfred could see the others waiting on the far side of the rope bridge. Arthur pulled him down into a crouch and Alfred had to admit that it was a good idea to stay hidden until he could hear what Francis, Antonio, and Feliciano were talking about. He wanted to believe that they would side with him instead of Gilbert. Still, he had to admit that he wasn't the best judge of character, as the Atlantis expedition had clearly proven.

Instead of crossing the rope bridge, Arthur showed him a lower path hidden behind a giant stone guardian. It took a while longer, but was well worth the element of surprise. The mist rising from the base of the waterfall hid their movements, allowing them to climb a hidden stone staircase, cross a line of stepping stones, and then sneak up on the other side of the explorers. Alfred suddenly understood how the Atlanteans had surrounded them when they first arrived. He could hear Angelique talking and he peeked around a rock to see what she was doing. He saw her wipe sweat from her brow, leaving a line of grease. She looked exhausted.

"Ugh, that took _hours_," she complained. "And I still don't understand what went wrong. It looked like the trucks had been sitting there for months!" She sat down on the grass and sighed. "Any news?"

Antonio shook his head. "No, but they should be back soon," he predicted optimistically.

"I still don't know about this. The Atlanteans seemed really nice! And they loved my pasta," Feli added, muffling a sniffle. Alfred smiled to himself—Feli really did love anyone who loved his cooking. And then it occurred to him that he had actually been _saved_ by Arthur's terrible sgonns because they stopped him from eating the pasta. He silently thanked the lumps of coal still being digested in his stomach.

Francis took a drag of his ever-present cigarette and shrugged. "At this point, it's the best choice. I don't want to be here when they wake up."

Alfred wanted to listen to more of their conversation, but he felt Arthur tugging on his shirt, pulling him down so that they were both completely hidden behind the rock. Alfred bit his lip and tried to think of a plan. He wondered if it was possible to animate the giant stone figures that surrounded the edge of Atlantis.

Arthur had a better idea: "If you take the two on the left, I'll handle the two on the right," the Atlantean suggested.

"No, there has to be a peaceful way to solve this," Alfred insisted, shaking his head. "These are my friends. Well, colleagues. Associates maybe?" He frowned, trying to come up with the right word to describe his relationship with the other explorers. They were often exasperated with him, but they also seemed genuinely fond of him at times. He was glad that they had refused to leave without him, although he wished they had mentioned their escape plan sooner. Apparently they were perfectly happy to drug him and carry him out of Atlantis if it made their escape easier.

"I don't think the name is important," Arthur replied, his expression a mixture of pity and sympathy. A guilty look crossed his eyes. "You're too kind for your own good, and people take advantage of it."

Alfred blinked and stared at the other man for a few moments. Gilbert taking advantage of him had come as a shock, and he started to wonder if Arthur was just using him too. No, he told himself, Arthur was different. Arthur had asked him for help and he had given it willingly. Considering the huge mistake he had made with Gilbert, it was the least he could do to balance the scales by helping his new Atlantean friend. He decided the best option was for him to talk with the others while Arthur stayed hidden. The plan lacked a few details, but Alfred had always been a big picture sort of guy. With Arthur's quasi-compliment (and perhaps semi-apology?) warming his heart, he climbed to his feet and walked toward the other explorers.

"Alfred, you're safe!" Feliciano cried out, running forward to wrap his arms around the taller blond. He looked like he had been crying, probably because his pasta had been used as a weapon. Alfred waved his hand and grinned at their shocked looks.

"So... what sort of priceless artifacts do you have hidden away in the trucks?" he asked, the smile hardening on this face.

"Just a few small statues, some decorated vases, a couple of blue diamonds, big ones," Francis replied, taking a casual drag of his cigarette.

Angelique kicked the Frenchman. "You're not supposed to tell him!"

"Well, I'm sure you'll all be fabulously wealthy," Alfred said, looking each of them in the eyes before he delivered his verbal blows. "And that's what you wanted... right? Francis, you can buy your girlfriends lots of flowers and tell them it was all paid for by stealing from a dying civilization. That's how you impress girls, yeah? I don't know, it's not really my area of expertise. Angelique, I'm sure your pop will be _real_ proud of where you got the money for your machine shop. Antonio, were you the one who gave them the drugs for the pasta? And good job on cooking it, Feli. I didn't try any myself, obviously, but I'm sure it knocked their sandals off. Or maybe just knocked them out."

Feliciano sniffled and averted his gaze. One down, three to go. Alfred could tell that the soft-hearted Italian would stay on his side because Feli had always been more interested in food than money.

"We've done a lot of things we're not proud of," Francis admitted. He began ticking them off on his fingers, "Robbing graves, plundering tombs, double parking. But, nobody got hurt. Well, maybe somebody got hurt, but nobody we'd met."

"Do you usually rob the tombs while people are still living in them?" Alfred asked with a pointed glare. During his time with Arthur, he had subconsciously picked up on the other man's impressive glaring techniques. He wielded it like a weapon.

They all looked up in surprise as they heard Gilbert laugh. He and Monika had snuck up without anyone noticing. They crossed over the rope bridge, their hands resting on their guns. Gilbert continued walking towards Alfred and smirked. "Well, look what we have here. Academics... you never want to get your hands dirty. Think about it: if you gave back every stolen artifact from a museum, you'd be left with an empty building. We're just providing a necessary service to the archaeological community."

"That doesn't make it right," Alfred protested, gritting his teeth. He gave the others a pleading expression. "Is that how you feel? Are you just mercenaries?"

"Mercenary?" Gilbert snorted. "I prefer 'awesome adventure capitalist.' Besides, _you're_ the one who brought us here. _You're_ the one who led us to the treasure chest."

Alfred felt a stab of guilt, but he didn't back down. "You lied to me and I'm not going to help you any more."

Gilbert shrugged and turned to face the others. "Well, I'm not a dictator. If you want a smaller cut, we can put them all back and leave. It's your choice."

Alfred saw his opportunity to offer them a better option. "You know, Francis, I bet you could make a lot of money by writing a story about the trip. Sort of like Journey to the Center of the Earth," he suggested. "But it doesn't sound good if the heroes steal the treasure."

Francis rubbed his beard and nodded thoughtfully. "Women _do_ like writers."

"Angelique... everyone will want to hire you once they hear about your skill with submarines. And they will, thanks to Francis's book!" She nodded. Alfred decided to twist the dagger. "Toni, you became a doctor to _heal_ people, right?"

"Alfred's right. This is wrong," Antonio said, looking Gilbert squarely in the eye. The other three nodded their agreement. Alfred cheered on the inside, appreciating the victory for common decency. He should have guessed that it wouldn't last.

* * *

Alfred practically skipped down the walkway as he helped carry the stolen artifacts back to the island. The others were surprised by how much he could lift, but books were heavy and he had a lot of experience carrying those around. He hoped that Arthur was trailing them and watching appreciatively.

They quickly replaced the urns and statues. Alfred found himself separated from the others and realized too late that Gilbert was the only one standing behind him in the narrow corridor between stone buildings.

"Those were mere trinkets and we both know it," Gilbert whispered as he cocked his gun and pressed it against Alfred's back. "So you're going to take me to the real prize. The Heart of Atlantis."

Alfred squeezed his eyes tight and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to help Gilbert any more, no matter what the cost. "No," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Gilbert sighed. "If you want to make this difficult... I'll take you down to the beach, count to ten, and then start killing them. One by one. I think I'll start by finding that Atlantean you're fond of."

Furious at the cold-blooded threats, Alfred whirled around and attempted to punch the Prussian in the face. The other man easily caught his fist and sent him flying backwards. Alfred hit the ground hard and felt the breath leave his body. He was suddenly terrified for himself and everyone else on the island. Gilbert continued to smile as he ambled closer, wearing his usual cheerful grin. Alfred tried to spot the monster lurking behind the other man's eyes with no success; he had to admit that Gilbert looked the same as always. He was too good at hiding the evil in his heart. Or perhaps, like a cat stalking a mouse, he didn't even believe himself to be evil.

Finding his breath, Alfred scrambled to his feet and raised his fists in a boxer's pose. Gilbert laughed at him. His laughter turned into a scream of pain as Arthur pounced on him from behind, stabbing him in the leg with a spear. Alfred jumped forward to help, giving Gilbert a few good kicks in the ribs before he found himself pummeled in the stomach and knocked to the ground. He looked up with blurry vision and saw that Monika had joined the fray. Still disoriented and gasping for breath, Alfred crawled forward and tried to grab Monika's boot before she could kick Arthur. Something was wrong with his depth perception, leaving him to grasp empty air.

Arthur held his own in the ferocious melee of bodies, punching and kicking as he avoided Gilbert and Monika's blows. He was nimble and stronger than his slim body suggested. Still, it was two against one, and Gilbert's injury made him even angrier. Arthur finally went down as Monika viciously pistol-whipped him across the face. She placed her boot on his neck to stop him from climbing back to his feet.

"Well, as usual, diplomacy has failed us," Gilbert said, wiping the blood from his nose. He ripped off part of his shirt and wrapped the bandage around his bleeding thigh. "Now, Alfred, I'm going to count to ten, and you're going to tell me where the Heart is." He pointed his gun at Arthur's prone body. "One... Two..."

Alfred shook his head, horrified at the idea of having to watch Arthur die in front of him. But he couldn't choose between protecting Arthur and protecting the Heart of Atlantis. The two were one and the same. He bit his lip, knowing that he had only eight seconds to make a plan. Whatever else he did, Alfred couldn't let Gilbert know that the Heart of Atlantis was right in front of him.

Gilbert, however, had a different idea, skipping straight to "_Nine_..."

"No!" Alfred screamed. "_Izin-thams-ovis-king_!" he shouted in a single breath, panicking and desperate to save Arthur's life.

Gilbert kept his gun pointed at Arthur. "Speak English," he growled.

Alfred gulped and slowly climbed to his feet. "It's in the arms of its king," he said. "I'm still not sure what that means," he admitted. That part was true at least.

"You're telling me that Atlantis hid its most priceless treasure with a riddle?" Gilbert scoffed and looked at Alfred like he was insane. Alfred knew that look well—he got it all the time, usually when he was talking about Atlantis.

Surprisingly, Monika jumped in to back up Alfred's claim. "Sir, it's an ancient civilization. They always use riddles." She lifted her boot off of Arthur's neck and gestured for Alfred to help the Atlantean to his feet.

Alfred nodded and stepped forward so that he could grab Arthur's arms and shoulder some of the other man's weight. The American heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that Arthur was still conscious and breathing. He hoped that Monika's blow hadn't caused any sort of permanent damage. Arthur looked dazed and his slightly vacant facial expression worried Alfred.

"Hey, are you okay?" Alfred whispered.

Arthur managed to focus on Alfred's face. "You have... wonderful eyes," he murmured. Alfred felt another surge of panic. He was leading two angry people with loaded guns on a wild goose chase and now he was convinced that Arthur had _lost his mind_.

Monika grabbed Arthur's arm, twisted it behind his back, and held her gun against Arthur's head. "Lead the way," she told Alfred, her voice cold and business-like.

They were so screwed.

* * *

Ten minutes, seven statues, and one angry German threat later, Alfred knew that he was running out of time and Gilbert was running out of patience.

Alfred had been leading them up the winding stairs towards the rotunda at the top of the island. The Atlanteans loved carving statues, which had given Alfred a barebones plan. All he had to do was find a statue of a man holding something in his hands. He would then claim that the statue was the King of Atlantis, making the object the Heart of Atlantis. Gilbert and Monika would leave with the useless object and everyone would be safe. It was a brilliant plan. Unfortunately, the statues weren't cooperating. Too many women and not enough outstretched hands.

"I don't suppose we could get the others to help us look?" Alfred asked Gilbert a little desperately. If nothing else, he wanted to know that his fellow explorers were okay. No one had come running when he screamed and he was worried about them.

Monika and Gilbert shared a chuckle. "I'm afraid they're all tied up," Monika added with a smug grin. Alfred realized what she meant, but he still felt a small surge of relief. Even though the others wouldn't be able to help him, at least they were okay.

As an additional sign that his luck had begun to improve, Alfred finally spotted the perfect statue for his plan. Unlike the others, this one wasn't covered in vines. Someone had been taking care of it. Alfred stepped closer, read the inscription "In loving memory of Queen Aliki," and instantly recognized the stone man with the thick eyebrows for what he was. This was the last Queen of Atlantis, if the history written at the center of the island was to be believed. And he held a carved mask in his hands.

Alfred grinned in relief and decided that it was close enough. "They built this to commemorate their last king," he announced, pointing at the stone man. He looked Gilbert straight in the eyes and prayed that the other man wouldn't be able to sense his lies. "That's where the Heart is. In his arms."

Arthur made an inarticulate noise of protest and gave everyone a murderous glare. Monika pulled him back, forcefully pressing her cold gun against his head. Alfred caught the other man's eye and silently pleaded with the Atlantean to trust him. He understood why Arthur was worried—Arthur still didn't know what the Heart really was. Or more accurately, _who_ it really was. Alfred kicked himself for not explaining earlier.

All three watched as Gilbert jumped up to the base of the statue and pulled the mask out of stone hands. The Prussian smirked as he lifted up the stone mask. It had a carving of a face with thick gashes for eyebrows and two emeralds for eyes.

"I expected it to look prettier," Gilbert said as he jumped back to the ground. "And now you show me how it works."

Alfred knew that it wasn't a request. He gulped and nodded, his eyes wide. "Y-you put it directly under the crystal's light to activate the crystal's power," he said, pointing to the strange glowing crystal that floated above the island. It was big, shiny, and glowing, which was good enough to convince Gilbert that it was powerful. Alfred hoped that his stuttering would be mistaken for fear instead of lying through his teeth. If he and Arthur stood next to the pool in the rotunda, they could dive in and escape. He had read somewhere that bullets couldn't penetrate far under water. They would be safe in the hidden chamber beneath the rotunda.

Gilbert had a strange gleam in his eyes, and something about it sent a chill down Alfred's spine. The American stayed close to Arthur as the four of them climbed the steps into the rotunda. Gilbert's attention was focused on the mask in his hand, but Alfred could see out of the corner of his eye that Monika was still watching him closely and ready to shoot Arthur at the first sign of trouble.

The air hummed in excitement as Gilbert approached the edge of the round pool. Even at night, the water glowed, reflecting the light of the crystal. Alfred inched closer to the pool. All he needed was a few steps more and he would be able to grab Arthur and dive in.

"Stop right there," Monika shouted at Alfred. He lifted up his hands and stood stock-still.

Taking advantage of Monika's momentary shift in focus, Arthur jabbed the woman with his elbow, knocked away her gun, and ran forward to grab the stone mask out of Gilbert's hands. Alfred saw his chance. Without hesitating, he ran forward and tackled Arthur so that they both toppled over into the pool. As the fell, he heard a shot ring out and he saw the mask slip from Gilbert's fingers. And then everything disappeared.

* * *

Alfred opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of Atlantis, shining in its full glory all around him. There were no cracks in the stone walkways or vines on the buildings. The people wore fancier clothes and more jewelry. But the strange part was that the entire island was completely silent and no one seemed to look at him. He wondered if he had become a ghost and started to shiver. In the distance, he could even see entire chains of islands filled with farms and orchards. Waves crashed onto the beach, becoming surf and turquoise seas in the distance beneath a cloudless sky. The entire island looked so beautiful that for a few moments Alfred completely forgot his fear of ghosts.

Something tugged on his leg and Alfred saw that he had a red string tied around his ankle. Curious, he followed it down to the beach, wrapping up the string as he walked. The string led him to Arthur, who was sitting on the beach, watching a swimming boy.

"What happened?" Alfred asked.

Startled, Arthur jumped to his feet and whirled around. "Alfred! You're bleeding," he said, pointing to Alfred's back.

Alfred touched his back and glanced down at the crimson staining his hand. Instead of pain, he felt oddly detached. "Oh, I didn't even notice. So... is this heaven?" He found the idea oddly comforting. Atlantis had always seemed like a paradise to him.

"I don't think we're dead," Arthur replied. He touched his own heart and then stepped close enough to press his hand against Alfred's chest. "Your heart is still beating." The Atlantean paused and smiled. "Rather quickly, I might add."

They both glanced up as a number of finely dressed Atlanteans spilled out onto the beach. One of them tossed off her robes and waded out to the swimming boy. She grabbed his ear and pulled him back to shore. The child ducked his head, but Alfred had enough time to see his thick eyebrows and green eyes. "Is that _you_?" Alfred asked in a hushed voice. "Weird. I always thought that I was supposed to see my own life flash in front of my eyes."

Instead of responding, Arthur followed the group as they returned to the collection of intricate buildings that perched on the top of this island. Alfred paused to gawk at the beautiful spires. He ran to catch up when he felt the string tugging him forward. Alfred and Arthur entered the courtyard together. Alfred blinked. Somehow it seemed like the boy was a few years older and now he sat beside a girl of approximately the same age. The two giggled together and shared a kiss in the dappled sunlight.

Scenes flickered past as the boy grew into a man. They watched him fall in love and get married. When he placed a crown on his wife's head, Alfred sensed another mystery of Atlantis unravel before his eyes. The power to control the Heart passed down the line of queens, and whomever the Queen married became the King.

"They're my parents," Arthur said, watching the couple with a shocked expression. He took one step forward and they found themselves watching the young couple cooing over a thick-browed baby with big green eyes.

"Gosh, you were cute," Alfred said, grinning at the baby's somber expression. "But never been much for smiling, have you?"

Arthur swacked Alfred in the shoulder and gave him a half-hearted glare. "Stop talking nonsense."

When they turned back to look at Arthur's father, he was kneeling on the ground, coughing up blood. Arthur's mother ran forward. People came and went, everyone looking shocked and afraid. They carried Arthur's father into a boat. Alfred and Arthur joined them on the short trip to a different island. This one looked familiar. And Alfred knew it was the surviving island when they walked under a waterfall and followed the dry tunnels into the secret chamber. But it wasn't empty. They stood in front of a glowing crystal surrounded by floating masks. It reminded Alfred of the sun-like object that bathed Atlantis in light. The crystal was kept in an underground cavern... the same one that he and Arthur had found at the center of the island.

"What's happening?" Arthur asked. It looked like his father stayed in a bed near the crystal and his mother came to visit him frequently. Although his father rarely changed clothes, she flickered through different outfits and seemed to grow older and more weary in front of their eyes. She brought Arthur during her visits and the change in the baby's age was even more remarkable. The child began to crawl and then toddle and was soon walking on his own. Alfred thought that little Arthur still looked pretty cute, but he decided not to mention it this time.

"Even the power of Atlantis wasn't enough to heal your father," he mused instead. "But it _could_ create a bubble where time moves really slowly. A day or two for him would be a year for her. The crystal gave him immortality in the only way it could."

They both watched as Arthur's mother rushed into the room in a panic, Arthur in her arms. She gestured to the outside world and whatever was happening beyond the cavern walls must have been terrible given her frantic movements. The crystal glowed brighter, reacting to the danger and pulling Arthur towards it. The child looked calm as he began to glow, pulled by the light to float amongst the spinning masks. The walls shook. Suddenly a bright light filled the room and then everything was still.

Arthur's mother caught Arthur before his feet touched the ground and she wrapped the sleeping toddler in her arms. Alfred and Arthur followed the couple as they walked outside. What had once been a beautiful archipelago of islands was now just one island, encased in a dome of solidified magma. Alfred could see precisely how far the power of Atlantis extended—its effects marked by a shimmery blue glow. Arthur's mother gathered the panicked people into the rotunda at the top of the island.

After a whispered conversation between Arthur's parents—Alfred desperately wished he could hear what any of them were saying—Arthur's mother woke up little Arthur, put a crystal necklace in his hand, and gave him a short set of instructions. The toddler looked confused, but he lifted up the necklace, which glowed as he frowned in thought. The group looked briefly enraptured by the light, than blinked and resumed their discussions, though they looked slightly less frantic than before.

"There's something she's making them all forget," Arthur murmured, watching his past self closely. He gave Alfred an apologetic look. "I've been... less than honest with you. I knew about that power, I just didn't know how any of it was connected to the Heart. We don't let outsiders remember Atlantis because we're afraid they will try to steal the Heart or sell the information."

"That's sensible," Alfred admitted morosely, recognizing his own role in helping their worst fears come to pass. He could guess why the Atlantean felt guilty. "But Shepherd escaped with his journal, didn't he? And look where that got us. I led a band of plundering vandals to the greatest archeological find in recorded history."

"Don't be so harsh. You've also helped us rediscover our written language and history," Arthur replied, giving Alfred a grateful look. "And I've... enjoyed our time together. No one has ever eaten all my sgonns before."

Alfred smiled. Eating Arthur's terrible scones was a small price to pay to see the other man happy. He liked Arthur in a way he'd never liked anyone before. He wished he had realized it sooner. He touched his hand to the bullet wound in his back, worried that whatever power was showing them the memories would end soon. "Hey Arthur, could you do me a final favor?" he asked wistfully. "Could I have a kiss?"

They were in a small bedroom now, watching Arthur's father die. Surrounded by his wife and young son, the man held a familiar stone mask in his hands—a mask that resembled his own face. Even as Arthur and his mother cried, the man looked strangely at peace. And for the first time in the memory, a person spoke to them directly:

"This is for you, Arthur," Arthur's father said, holding out the mask. "The collective dreams and memories of all who came before us are preserved in the crystal. My burden is yours now. Protect the crystal. Save Atlantis."

The bedroom disappeared, leaving darkness behind. With a soft gasp, Alfred sank to the floor, scrunching his eyes as he suddenly felt jolts of pain shooting from his back. He opened his eyes to see that he and Arthur were in the underground cavern. He didn't understand how they had traveled from the round pool to the floor of the hidden cavern.

Arthur held the stone mask in his arms, staring at it with a shocked expression. He broke out of his daze a moment later, setting down the mask as he knelt next to Alfred. The Atlantean pressed his crystal necklace against Alfred's wound, wiping away the pain and replacing it with soothing numbness.

Arthur leaned closer and closer, and it wasn't until Alfred felt lips touching his own that he even realized it was a kiss. He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet and gentle feeling. He wished that it had occurred to him to kiss Arthur sooner. He really liked it. The kiss ended too soon, but it still left Alfred with a pleasant and tingling feeling in his belly. He opened his eyes just in time to see Arthur rising to his feet.

"All will be well," Arthur promised and, holding the stone mask, he stepped into the light.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Author's Notes**

In Chinese mythology the red string of destiny connects to your ankle. I don't know why, but I like that image better than the little finger used in Japanese mythology.

A time difference question came up in the reviews, and wanted to provide a definitive answer for anyone who's worried: time slows down for Alfred too when he's in Atlantis. He and Arthur will age at the same rate provided they both stay in Atlantis. They'll also age at the same rate if they both leave. So they're okay as long as they stay together :)


	5. Chapter 5

[_A/N: Continued warning this chapter for violence and villain character death_.]

Alfred felt like he had been swaddled in a cloud of hazy euphoria as soon as Arthur kissed him. He had just wanted one kiss before he died; he didn't expect it to feel so _amazing_. Why had no one ever told him about the joys of kissing boys? It felt like someone had just given him the key to a house that he had never known existed. And now that he had seen it, he knew it was the most wonderful, fantastic house that had ever existed and the only place he could ever call home.

The pleasant feeling disappeared as Alfred watched Arthur stand up and saw what he intended to do. He was going to merge with the crystal and fight Gilbert and Monika. Alfred shouted for him to wait, but it was too late. The Atlantean had already sprouted wings. He flew up through the hole in the ceiling and out of the underground cavern. A moment later, blazing light from the crystal illuminated the entire room and nearly blinded Alfred. He felt a tingling sensation and it looked like the entire cave had been lit from within. He saw green and purple spots in his eyes for a few moments, still partially blinded.

Since he was not fortunate enough to be imbued with the power of flight by an ancient mystical artifact, Alfred knew that he would have to go around the long way. He sat up and climbed to his feet, finding that his back was completely healed, although his shirt still had a large blood stain. He felt something around his neck and looked down to see that he was wearing Arthur's crystal necklace. The Atlantean must have tied it around his neck during the kiss. Alfred had been too distracted to notice.

Alfred ran out of the room as fast as he could. To his surprise, the tunnel that had been filled with water just hours earlier was now bone-dry. He kept running until he dashed under the waterfall and out onto the beach. The entire city looked different: cracks in the stone had disappeared and the buildings were no longer covered in vines. Broken statues had been made whole. The crystal had been turned on to full power, generating more light than a noon-day sun. Alfred suddenly wished that he had brought his sunglasses on the underwater expedition. He wondered if he was watching another memory, before deciding that what he was just seeing the power of the Heart to restore Atlantis to its former glory.

"Arthur! _Arthoúros_!" he cried as he ran toward the center of the island. He hoped that Arthur remembered that guns were dangerous.

"Alfred!" Angelique shouted back. The American whipped his head to the side and saw his four colleagues tied up near the kitchens. Briefly debating whether Arthur or his fellow explorers need his help more, Alfred finally decided that the young man who had just merged with a powerful artifact could probably take care of himself. Alfred rushed over to Angelique, borrowed a knife from the kitchen, and quickly cut their ropes.

"What happened?" Feliciano asked.

"Gilbert... Monika... guns... threatened to kill everyone!" Alfred said, gasping for breath as he tried to give the others a coherent explanation without going into the messy details about the history of Atlantis and its mysterious power source. He also skipped his newfound revelations about Arthur's soft lips and his own sexuality.

They heard shouting and guns being fired. Alfred felt his stomach plummet. He stared in shock when he saw that it was actually Gilbert and Monika running for their lives. They raced down the steps, chased by animated stone guardians. Despite a few bullet marks, the stone guardians never slowed down. Apparently a number of the island's statues were functional as well as decorative.

Monika gaped when she caught sight of Alfred. "But... I shot you!" she protested.

Alfred grinned. "I got better."

"Wait, you _shot_ Alfred? That wasn't part of the plan," Antonio protested.

"I don't think that _they're_ part of the plan either," Francis added dryly, pointing to the running stone statues that had nearly caught up with Monika and Gilbert.

"Leave them!" Gilbert ordered as he continued running. Still following, Monika spared a glance back. They escaped the statues, but the two didn't make it far across the walkway before a giant tentacle dropped in front of them, completely blocking their path.

"He woke up the _leviathan_," Alfred said in awe, watching as a creature emerged from the depths of the lake, brandishing enormous claws. It looked terrifying and amazing. He hoped he would have a chance to study it later.

Gilbert and Monika spotted the creature at the same time. Seeing that his path was blocked, Gilbert pushed Monika in front of a claw and then raced back to the island. Alfred gasped. It had never occurred to him that Gilbert would betray Monika as easily as he betrayed everyone else. She fired a few shots at the creature, aiming for its many eyes. It screamed in pain and she used the distraction to slip past its first and second claws. She didn't notice the third claw until was too late. Alfred heard a terrible crack. The creature tossed Monika's body onto the walkway and scuttled forward.

It looked like Gilbert would make it back to the island in time, but the expedition leader stumbled at the last moment. Alfred didn't understand why Gilbert had slowed down until he saw blood drip from Gilbert's side. In the distance, he spotted Monika. Twisted painfully and aiming her gun at Gilbert, she had a grin on her face. She had gotten her revenge for his betrayal. The monster caught up and grabbed Gilbert. The leviathan shook Gilbert's body viciously and flung it far away from the island. Alfred couldn't see where it landed.

Feliciano scrambled out from behind the kitchens and raced toward the walkway.

"Wait, Feli!" Alfred cried, following behind. He tried to grab the other man, to stop him or slow him down, but the Italian was too fast. When he really wanted to, Feliciano could outrace anyone. The monster focused its beady eyes on them. It turned to face Alfred and made a skittering, almost questioning noise. Alfred stared at the fearsome monster. Shepherd's journal warned that the leviathan attacked anyone who wasn't a friend of Atlantis. Thinking of the word 'friend' sparked another thought and he decided it was worth a try. "_Fílos! Fílos!__" _he shouted. The Atlantean word for friend. He wondered if the monster had paused because Feli sounded like Fílos.

The monster nodded and smoothly slipped back into the sea, leaving behind a few ripples. It had worked! Alfred felt his heart start to beat again. He shivered and swore that he would never eat lobster or swim in anything larger than a swimming pool ever again. He had never realized what lived in the fearsome ocean depths. Finding the strength to move again, he caught up with Feliciano and helped the young man carry Monika's body back to the beach. Antonio checked for a pulse and shook his head sadly.

"I-I thought you said the Heart of Atlantis could cure wounds!" Feliciano protested, looking up at Alfred with wet and angry eyes.

"It can't heal everything," Alfred said neutrally. He found it too hard to muster sympathy for Monika, especially after she _shot_ him, but he felt sorry for Feliciano.

"Look on the bright side, Feli. We're_ all_ going to die," Angelique said dryly, pointing out the numerous stone men that had started to gather around them. Their impassive faces were frightening, but at least they weren't horrific killer sea creatures.

Huddled together, the explorers all turned to look at Alfred; they were depending on _him_ to diffuse the situation. He had somehow gone from the laughing stock of the expedition to their de facto leader. He gulped, scared at the level of responsibility. He liked it better when all he had to do was read a map.

"_Fílos__?"_ Alfred suggested, holding up his hands as he stepped forward, placing himself between the statues and the other explorers. The stone men looked him over, spotted his borrowed crystal necklace, and nodded. They slowly dispersed, returning to their pedestals and freezing back in place. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief and added statues to the list of things that he would never look at the same way again.

Sensing that the threat was over, the crystal had no more need of its host. The light dimmed back to its normal night-time levels. Alfred took the stairs two at a time, eager to hug Arthur tightly. He met Arthur half-way up the stairs and smiled, deeply relieved to see that Arthur was mostly back to his normal self. The Atlantean's hair looked wind-blown and wilder than ever. The cloth wrapped around his waist was slightly off-center, showing off more leg than usual. But the biggest change was the light burning in his eyes. Arthur's eyes gleamed with confidence and self-knowledge. He had been handsome before, now he was gorgeous.

The world narrowed to a pinprick for Alfred. Only one person filled his vision. Only one thought entered his mind. Between one heart beat and the next, he understood what it felt like to fall in love. Alfred had been on a roller coaster once when his grandfather took him to visit Coney Island. He still remembered the airless feeling at the top of the track. It was exciting and frightening at the same time. He felt it again now. Love wasn't what he had always been taught. Love wasn't a man and a woman deciding to share their life and property after a courtship and a wedding. Love was the warmth in his cheeks, the tingling in his chest, the fear of loss in his stomach, the weakness in his knees, the hope and worry and desire warring in his mind.

To Alfred's surprise, Arthur hugged him first. He overcame his surprise and wrapped his arms around Arthur, grateful that the other man was safe and sound. Arthur felt perfect in his arms. He wanted it to last forever, but the hug ended too soon.

"Thank you, for everything," Arthur said as he pulled back. The Atlantean slipped his crystal necklace off of Alfred's neck.

Alfred grinned. "You make it sound like you're saying goodbye." Arthur averted his gaze, and that was enough to tell Alfred that he _was_ saying goodbye. He should have seen it coming. The Atlanteans carefully guarded themselves against outsiders. They weren't going to welcome a group of mercenaries, even if Alfred had managed to undo the damage. How could he expect gratitude when he was the one who had led a pack of wolves to their door? Alfred's face fell.

Feeling subdued and dejected, Alfred barely paid attention when the rest of the Atlanteans arrived, looking equal parts angry and scared. Apparently Arthur had cured them of the sleeping pills' effect when he fixed up the island. Even without paying attention, Alfred recognized the angriest woman as the one who had asked most of the questions when he met with the Atlantean council of elders. Looking at her again, he decided that she also looked like the woman he had seen in the memory... Arthur's mother. She had a heated discussion with her son. Arthur won the argument and soon he and a few Atlanteans led the explorers back across the walkway.

Alfred trudged across the rope bridge and through the narrow crevice, knowing that he would have to say goodbye for real. Each step felt like moving through lead. After the rich colors and tastes and scents of Atlantis, the outside world seemed dull and dreary.

The other explorers were looking to him for guidance, but he didn't know what to say. He wanted to yell at them. Remind them that all of the bad things that had happened during the trip were indirectly his fault. Instead, he looked up and watched Arthur, catching the other man's eye. He could see a lot of emotions in Arthur's eyes. But none of them was love.

"We'll give you enough food and water for the journey back," Arthur promised, directing some of the other Atlanteans to put supplies into the trucks.

Alfred opened his mouth to ask a question, feeling his mouth go dry. He knew that Arthur would make them forget Atlantis before he let them go. Alfred didn't want to forget the lost city. He didn't want to forget everything he had learned about himself and the ancient culture. Most of all, he didn't want to forget Arthur. There was only one solution. Alfred mustered his courage and decided to plunge straight in. "Can I stay?" he asked. He felt his Adam's apple bob uncomfortably.

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise. "You... want to stay?"

Alfred nodded eagerly, hoping that he could convince Arthur of his complete sincerity. "There's not much for me back home," he explained. "Not since my grandfather passed away. My life's dream has always been to find Atlantis. And here it is. I like the place... and the people."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said softly, his words for Alfred's ears alone. "I can't."

It felt like a punch to the stomach. "Oh," Alfred said, trying to hide the hurt with a wan smile. "Okay. I understand," he said, even though he didn't really understand.

Still avoiding his eyes, Arthur offered him a handshake. Alfred leaned forward and grabbed the other man in a hug instead. Although what he _really_ wanted was a kiss, he understood now that their earlier kiss had been a favor—a thank you for his translation skills—not a moment of passion. Even though his affections weren't returned, Alfred wanted to give Arthur as much help as he could and this was his last chance. "I think you know as much as I do about the crystal now, but if there's anything else in my head that can help you, take it," he whispered. "Your mother and the murals probably have more answers. Also, I think the crystal is weak because it's using most of the energy to slow time. If you ever want to, you can stop that and bring the city back the surface."

He pulled back and offered Arthur a brave smile. He hoped that the other man would remember him fondly at least. "It was nice to meet you, Arthur."

Alfred watched as Arthur held up the small crystal on his necklace. He saw a bright light... and that was the last he remembered.

* * *

Angelique kicked the submarine and muttered a long curse in a language that Alfred didn't understand. He guessed that it was a type of creole. He peeked into the innards of the machine. "Anything I can help with?" he asked. He ducked when she threw a wrench at him and assumed that meant 'no.'

"Don't touch anything!" Angelique muttered before crawling into the back of one of the trucks. She cursed more as she searched.

Seeing his chance, Alfred examined the boiler. He smiled to himself when he recognized it as the same type his university had used. He grabbed the discarded wrench, performed a complicated set of twists, hits, and bangs, and the machine roared to life.

"_What_ did you _do_?" Angelique cried as she approached. She frowned, saw that the boiler was now purring smoothly, and gave Alfred an appraising look. "What _did_ you do?"

He twirled the wrench in his hand and smiled. "Well... we had a pretty similar one back at the Smithsonian and you just need to recalibrate the side pressure and add a slight twist on the coal output before giving it a good swack."

She slowly smiled, giving Alfred an affectionate punch in the arm. Angelique turned around and shouted out of the top hatch, "Okay everyone, ship's ready!"

The two joined the others at the edge of the water. Feliciano had lit two floating candles and released them into the water. They watched in silence. Alfred found it surprisingly hard to feel sad that they had lost Gilbert and Monika in a rock slide. It helped that the other explorers had later admitted that the expedition leader was more interested in stealing artifacts than in studying them. Alfred didn't want to think about what priceless artifacts they might have tried to steal from Atlantis. Alfred loaded his pack onto his shoulder. He had lost the Shepherd's Journal in the same rock slide, forcing them to turn back before they could find the lost city. The loss weighed heavily on him, although the others seemed mollified by his discovery soon afterward of a number of blue diamonds. Alfred still didn't understand how it happened. He went to sleep and the next day found a pile of diamonds nearby.

"Alfred, hurry up!" Francis called. The Frenchman stubbed his cigarette into the ground and jumped into the ship. They were all ready to go home and cash in on their share of the diamonds. Alfred sighed. He would have traded a sight of Atlantis for all of the diamonds in the world.

The American felt an ache in his heart as he watched the shoreline slipped from view. Unsure of the source of his sadness, he blamed it on the loss of his grandfather's book.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Author's Notes**

So... remember how I promised a happy ending last chapter? - Dramatic pause. - Don't worry, it's still true.

Confession time. There is one part of the Disney movie that has always bothered me. When Kida merges with the crystal, she just meekly lets them stick her in a metal box. I expected that to be the point where she pulled out the big guns. Not a time to make things _easier_ for the villains. No, apparently "All will be well, Milo Thatch," means "Everything will be okay so long as you come and rescue me." Obviously I wasn't going to let Arthur do that.

BTW, if anyone is interested in watching the movie, I've posted a link on my tumblr. (You can access my tumblr via my profile, or you can just type in my user name 'zeplerfer' before tumblr-dot-com.)


	6. Chapter 6

_Several months later..._

_Washington D.C., October 1914_

Alfred bent over the German telegrams and, by comparing them to the cyphertext, quickly translated the messages. With a weary sigh, he added them to the growing pile in his outbox. It all seemed like dull supply information to him, but the military would want to know. After returning from the failed expedition to Atlantis, Alfred had learned that the army was looking for skilled linguists to help in the war effort. The United States wasn't at war... yet. Still, the military knew it was only a matter of time and wanted to stay up-to-date on any available intelligence.

Being both an immense patriot and an unemployed linguist, Alfred had immediately signed up. The military recruiting agents had taken one looked at his physique and had determined that his linguist skills would be best suited for the Cryptology Office.

Alfred liked his job and he loved his country, but he had felt depressed over the past few months. The other explorers went back to their regular lives and used the money they earned from selling the diamonds to pursue their dreams. They occasionally sent Alfred letters—the ones from Francis smelled like roses and perfume, Angelique's had grease spots on the envelope, and Alfred really hoped that the red on Antonio's letters was from tomatoes and not blood. They all seemed happy with their lives. Alfred, on the other hand, felt down in the dumps. His dream had always been to discover Atlantis, so unless he could organize a second expedition, he had nothing left to pursue.

His work provided some distraction, but Alfred enjoyed his free time after work the most. He walked a few buildings over to the Smithsonian museum, where he could wander around the exhibits, enjoying a sense of peace and comfort among the musty books and ancient artifacts. It reminded him of his grandfather's home. Except with fewer spittoons for chewing tobacco.

Alfred had about one hour to spend in the museum before it closed, so he went directly to the exhibit on Ancient Greece. He'd been reading about the Sacred Band of Thebes lately and he had seen a few cursory references to a band of "lovers and their beloved" that intrigued him. The exact words were _erastês_ and their _erômenos_ and both referred to _men_. Alfred had been studying his Greek—the language was closely related to Atlantean and he needed to do _something_ to make his Atlantean skills useful again. Some of the ancient Greek discussions of male sexuality were incredibly enlightening. They helped Alfred understand why his most recent dreams had featured half-nude men.

As closing time approached, Alfred joined the trickle of tourists heading for the exists. He paused when he heard a visitor arguing with the secretary inside the building's main office. For some reason, the man's voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"You don't have an address of any sort? Perhaps a name of someone who would know where he's living now? I would be more than happy to compensate you."

Alfred scrunched his nose, trying to place the accent. The man had a solid grasp of English, but he pronounced his words very carefully. It sounded foreign and familiar at the same time—but whatever he was, he definitely wasn't American. The Smithsonian didn't have a lot of foreign visitors, not since the war started. Alfred peeked his head into the main office, hoping to catch a glimpse of the strange man so he could satisfy his curiosity. He saw pale blond hair, dark tanned skin, and a crisply pressed suit.

"I'm sorry. We don't keep those records for _former_ employees," the woman behind the desk replied tartly. "And, as you can see, it's closing time." She slammed down the ticket window, effectively ending the conversation.

"Mmph," the young man replied indignantly.

Alfred left before the other man noticed him. He didn't want the stranger to think that he had been spying. About twenty paces out into the National Mall, it occurred to Alfred that if the stranger was looking for a _former_ Smithsonian employee, he might be able to help. Alfred had tried to be friends with all of his coworkers... with varying degrees of success. Resolving to offer his assistance, Alfred turned around and spotted the blond man sitting on a nearby park bench. As he approached the bench, he couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu. The stranger looked oddly familiar. Still, Alfred thought that he would have remembered meeting someone with such distinctive eyebrows. The real shock came when he looked down and saw the book sitting in the man's lap. It looked exactly like the Shepherd's Journal. It _was_ the Shepherd's journal.

"Where did you find that?" Alfred shouted, drawing attention from several passersby. The seated man looked up. He stared at Alfred in shock—he was probably appalled by Alfred's rudeness. Alfred mumbled an apology and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets to stop himself from ripping the book out of the other man's hands. He reminded himself that it might be a different book. A different book with Atlantean writing on the cover...

The stranger quickly recovered from his surprise. He gave Alfred an appraising look. "I found it exploring the inside of a dormant volcano," he explained. "The owner was using Smithsonian paystubs as bookmarks. I take it you're Alfred?"

Alfred nodded mutely, still too shocked to find words. His shock deepened when the man casually handed him the journal. The American felt tears welling in his eyes as he held the precious book. He had never been more grateful for his habit of using whatever piece of paper was closest as a bookmark. Acting on impulse, Alfred bent forward and gave the stranger a one-arm hug. The American jerked back a moment later and offered the other man an embarrassed and apologetic grin. "Sorry, sorry. It's just... this is so amazing. I thought I would never see it again."

"You're very welcome," the young man said with a genuine smile, before introducing himself as Arthur Kirkland.

Alfred smiled back and warmly shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Arthur."

* * *

Needing some way to express the depth of his gratitude, Alfred invited Arthur for an early dinner at a nearby restaurant. He knew _just_ the place.

"An automat?" Arthur said as they approached the new building, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"You've never been?" Alfred rubbed his hands together in excitement, always happy when he could introduce someone to the wonders of automatic food. "They're amazing! All of the food is served by machine. You plug in a nickel, open the door, and get your food piping hot. Or cold, they also have cold. Basically they have everything."

Alfred handed Arthur a tray and showed him the wide assortment of food choices. It was good, solid American fare. Baked beans, creamed spinach, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, beef and noodles, sandwiches, soup, cookies, pie, rice pudding... automats had choices for everyone at very reasonable prices. Alfred filled his tray with Salisbury steak, apple pie, and coffee, while Arthur hesitantly chose the chicken potpie.

"Their coffee is definitely the tops. French-drip style," Alfred said as he placed his cup under a dolphin's head—he grinned, recognizing it as a copy of a fountain in Pompeii. The steaming coffee poured out of the dolphin's mouth at exactly the right temperature. Alfred didn't know how the automat managed, but every cup was always perfect. With a full tray, he led the way to an empty table in the huge rectangular hall. Alfred set the book to the side and immediately began shoveling food in his mouth.

Arthur took a sip of the coffee and scrunched up his nose. "I think I prefer tea."

"Oh, I get it. You're _British_!" Alfred said with a grin, finally identifying Arthur's accent. It explained why he knew English well, but still had a crisp and unusual pronunciation. Alfred took a sip of his own coffee and asked the question that had been bugging him since Arthur returned his book. "So... what were you doing spelunking in a volcano?"

Arthur shrugged and finished chewing a bite of his potpie. "It's a bit of a hobby of mine. My father made his money digging for diamonds in India. I like to support the family business, and volcanoes are a good source of diamonds."

Alfred nodded eagerly, encouraging Arthur to share more details about his recent international voyages. Arthur was a fantastic storyteller, and his details answered the questions that Alfred was too hesitant to ask. Growing up in India certainly explained both Arthur's dark tan and his peculiar accent. Judging by his recent trip around the world—exploring natural wonders, visiting ancient landmarks, collecting artifacts and books—he must have inherited a lot of wealth from his family, enough to allow him to explore the world just because he wanted to. The American wished that he had picked a more impressive restaurant. Sadly, he couldn't afford much more than the automat vending machines.

"...never traveled across the Atlantic Ocean before, so I decided, why not, I might as well visit the States. And, of course, I was a bit interested in solving the mystery of Alfred Jones and the Smithsonian paystubs."

Alfred smiled. "I'm glad you did, though I'm still amazed you found it."

"Well, I was tying a rope around a pillar when I noticed it hidden under a few rocks. Shocked me at first, until I found the old campsite and realized I wasn't the first one to explore the cave." Arthur's gaze drifted to the journal. "It means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

Alfred nodded. "It was a gift from my grandfather," he explained. He smiled and gently caressed the journal's cover. He fondly remembered the day his grandfather had given the antique book to him, telling him that he was the one who would finally discover Atlantis. He thought he would never see it again, so having it back in his hands was his dearest wish come true. "Sort of a family heirloom."

Arthur leaned forward and pushed his empty tray to the side of the table. "What's it about? I thought it was Ancient Greek at first, but I don't think I recognize the script."

"Yeah, it's a dead language," Alfred admitted without going into details. He _wanted_ to tell Arthur his theories about Atlantis, but he was afraid the young man would think that he was completely crazy, just like everyone else. Ever since the failure of his Atlantis expedition, Alfred had felt a growing seed of doubt about the existence of Atlantis. Instead he decided to tell the Shepherd's tale without mentioning the lost city. "The man who wrote it claimed that he had found an ancient civilization hidden underground. He thought it was the place the inspired the story of the Tower of Babel. Personally, I think he was a bit off his rocker. He writes about a crack in the Earth."

Arthur smirked. "But that didn't stop you from trying to trace his path."

Alfred nearly spit out his coffee in shock. "How did you know...?"

"A book does not simply walk into a volcano. It had to get there somehow."

"Yeah," Alfred mumbled. He took a determined bite of his pie and chewed silently, trying to think of a way to explain his expedition without mentioning Atlantis.

"It's peculiar, isn't it?" Arthur mused, leaning back in his chair once he finished his meal. "The number of cultures that have a legend of an ancient, advanced civilization brought low by the gods in a terrible cataclysmic event. A volcanic eruption. A great flood."

"I know!" Alfred interjected excitedly. "I think they were all talking about the same place and I've been trying to get funding to find it for _years_."

Arthur looked intrigued. "Did you?" he asked.

"Not at first. The funding committee kept changing the meeting time," Alfred muttered something unkind about the ol' fusspots under his breath. "Finally my grandfather's best friend stepped in, but the expedition was a bust." He sighed.

"I'm sorry, lad."

"It's all right. I've been saving up to try again. It's going to take a lot of money to hire another team of that caliber. Not to mention trying to find another submarine."

Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If you ever do put another expedition together, let me know. I like exploring underground, and I'm a jolly good cook."

"Really? You don't think I'm completely loopy?" Alfred asked eagerly. At the words 'good cook,' he suddenly felt his stomach begin to rebel, though he couldn't understand why. He was eating a perfectly delicious pie. He took a sip of coffee and willed his stomach to calm down. He was too excited to have time for an upset stomach.

"Of course not. I think that there are more things in heaven and earth, Alfred, than are dreamt of in our world. Perhaps Atlantis is one of them."

"That's what I always say!" Alfred agreed eagerly, thrilled beyond words that he had met a fellow believer. He didn't even notice that Arthur had mentioned Atlantis first. He signed. "It's too bad the war effort is using all of the submarines. That's the hardest... part... to..." he drifted off as a sudden epiphany lit up his brain.

Arthur had _climbed_ down into the volcano, showing that there was a different path. Alfred's eyes sparkled as he leaned forward intently. He began quizzing Arthur on the path he had taken and the equipment Alfred would need to retrace his descent. He was so caught up in the excitement of planning his second expedition that he completely forgot about his cup of coffee, letting it grow cold on his tray.

Arthur shook his head. "I can't just let you dig around in a cave when you have no experience with the equipment."

"Oh..." Alfred said, visibly deflating.

"Obviously I'll come with you and show you exactly where I found the book. Just let me know when you're ready to go."

Resisting the urge to jump up and hug Arthur again, Alfred bounced up and down in his chair. "I'm going to have to quit my job and end my lease and pack my things."

"Don't forget finding a way to cross the Atlantic ocean in the middle of a great war."

Alfred grinned so widely that he felt his face would split in two. "I'll get us there in a rowboat, if I have to!" he promised.

"Oh, I think I can manage something _slightly_ nicer than that."

* * *

It turned out that what Arthur meant by something 'slighty nicer' was First Class tickets on one of the few passenger vessels still sailing to Greece, another country that had thus far resisted pressure to join the great war. Alfred wanted to spend time enjoying the amenities and the delicious dining room experience, but instead he found himself horrendously seasick for the entire week-long voyage. The only upside was that Arthur seemed perfectly happy to play his nursemaid and keep Alfred company. Despite their different backgrounds, he had discovered that they had a lot in common. They both loved the thrill of exploration and discovering the unknown.

And Alfred felt _something_ growing between them. He had been predisposed to like Arthur—after all, the other man had given him back his grandfather's book, and that meant more to Alfred than he could say. But it was more than that. There was something secretive and very alluring about Arthur. It seemed like he already knew about Alfred's flaws and liked him anyway.

Needing time to think, Alfred had insisted that Arthur go enjoy the afternoon tea service without him. He knew that Arthur loved tea and he didn't want him to miss out on the ship's tasty scones just because Alfred couldn't keep down anything stronger than plain broth. Trying to sort his feelings out and settle his stomach, Alfred tried staring at the horizon. It didn't help much for either problem. Instead, another crash of the waves made his stomach flip. Alfred leaned over the ship's railing and threw up what was left of his lunch. He looked at the colors dissolving into the ocean below and groaned.

"Carrots? I didn't even _eat_ carrots," he complained to no one in particular. He felt a hand on his back and looked up to see Arthur standing next to him.

"I wanted to see if you were interested in dinner, but I suppose that's a no," Arthur replied.

For some reason Arthur didn't seem to have any problem with seasickness, making Alfred feel jealous. Or perhaps that was just the queasiness from the up-and-down motion of the waves. It was hard to tell the difference between the two feelings. Now that his stomach was completely empty, he let Arthur guide him back to his cabin. Alfred stumbled a bit through the door as the ship hit another swell. He gratefully dropped into his bed and sighed happily as Arthur placed a damp washcloth on his forehead.

"Tell me a story," Alfred murmured. He knew that he acted like a child when he got sick, but he couldn't help it. The sound of Arthur's voice was soothing and distracted Alfred from the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"All right," Arthur agreed. The bed dipped as he took a seat next to Alfred. "Have you ever heard the legend of the red thread of fate?"

Alfred shook his head slightly, and then regretted the movement.

Arthur absentmindedly brushed Alfred's hair from his sweaty forehead and readjusted the damp cloth. "It's an ancient story. Once, very long ago, a boy was walking home and he saw an old man standing in the moonlight. The man offered to show the boy his destiny. He pointed out a red thread wrapped around the boy's ankle and explained that the thread led to the young girl who was going to be the boy's wife. The boy laughed and tossed a rock at the first girl he saw because he wasn't interested in girls."

"The boy grew into a young man and years later he met a wonderful young woman. They fell in love, but he always wondered why she wore her hair down on one side to hide part of her face. Eventually, she showed him a small scar above her eyebrow. She told him that a young boy had tossed a rock at her many years ago, leaving the mark. The young man realized that the old man had been right all along. The red thread connects you to your destiny, even before you're ready for it."

Alfred blinked and waited for Arthur to finish the story, but the ending never came. "Is that it?" he finally asked. "That's not a very happy story."

"Mmm," Arthur agreed as he replaced the cloth, wringing it out in a nearby washbasin. The fresh cloth felt pleasantly cool on Alfred's forehead, helping him relax. He felt tired, but the nausea seemed to have passed. Arthur continued talking, his words helping soothe Alfred, even though they didn't make sense. Something about a mistake and a voyage.

Alfred slowly drifted off to sleep. He dreamt of walking along the streets of Atlantis, following a red string tied around his ankle. He walked across bridges, up stone stairs, past tall statutes, through waterfalls, and into a hidden cavern. Silhouetted in the light, he could see a figure waiting, his back turned to Alfred. The American saw the red string attached to the young man's ankle. Holding his breath, he reached for the man's shoulder, planning to make him turn around.

Light filled Alfred's vision. He groaned softly and blinked his eyes open. A direct beam of sunlight passed through the porthole and hit him in the face. He turned his head and caught sight of Arthur curled up in the armchair near the bed. The young man's head rested against his chest, his pale blond hair hiding part of his face. His features smoothed out in sleep, making him look younger and more vulnerable. Alfred crawled out of bed and resisted the urge to touch the soft hair. Instead he rested a hand on Arthur's shoulder, giving him a soft shake.

Arthur's eyes fluttered open. He yawned and stretched. "We're close," he said, smoothing down his clothes as he stood up.

"How can you tell?"

"No swells. The ship must be in the harbor."

As soon as Arthur mentioned it, Alfred realized it was true. He didn't feel sick to his stomach anymore because the ship had stopped moving up and down. Excited to catch his first glimpse of the dormant volcano, Alfred raced to the top deck. He could see a tall island growing closer. Gleaming white houses covered the top of the cliff. On the other side of the ship lay a much smaller island. A thin stream of smoke rose from a crater at the center. The ring of islands told Alfred that he was at the center of an ancient caldera.

Following at a more sedate pace, Arthur joined him at the ship's railing and examined the dormant volcano. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Alfred grinned. "Never readier!"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Lots of historical notes for this chapter!

Automats were the first fast food restaurant. My description here is based on a chain called Horn & Hardart. They were pretty cool. They popularized drip-style coffee (now the default type in the U.S.). Before the 1930s, the most common way to make coffee was boiling, which is generally a terrible idea because you end up with extra-bitter coffee. And guess what... you can still see part of one of their stores at the Smithsonian! I chose an automat because hamburgers don't become more widely available until the 1920s and later, which is when White Castle opens up.

Speaking of the Smithsonian, at the time of this story, the museum was housed in the Smithsonian Castle. It originally opened in 1855. Most of the other museum buildings didn't open until the 1970s and 1980s. If you watch the movie closely, you can tell they drew the building based on the Castle, which makes me very happy :)

The movie is unclear where the action is taking place, but I've decided to place Atlantis beneath Santorini, a volcano in the Mediterranean Sea and part of Greece. Greece was technically a neutral nation until June 1917 (one month after the United States entered WWI... which was itself nearly three years after the war started) so the outbreak of WWI doesn't stop them from traveling there. Lots of interesting things were happening in Greece during WWI (mostly a national schism over whose side to join), none of which is relevant to this story.

Finally, the red thread story that Arthur tells is a traditional Japanese fable, modified a bit because I didn't want to use an arranged marriage.


	7. Chapter 7

"I think the dock is shaking," Alfred said, gripping the handrail as he tried to find his balance. He had really hoped that getting off the ship would end his seasickness. Instead he still wobbled as he walked, trying to readjust to being on dry land. He had liked the expedition's submarine better—at least he was spared the sensation of going up and down, up and down.

Arthur offered his arm as they walked along the wooden dock. "It's called dock rock. Give it a few hours and it should pass," he said reassuringly.

The village at the edge of the cliffs was small and cheerful with its white limestone walls and bright blue domes, but Alfred could see hints of the Great War here and there, particularly in the lack of tourists. No women in bonnets, no men in suits, just children and cats running around. Alfred continued to gawk as they entered a general store at the center of the island's main village.

For a second, he thought that the store sold _cats_, because that's what he saw reclining on every surface. Cats of every shape and color. But beneath the paws and tails he noticed an assortment of trade goods and supplies. The cats weren't for sale, they just liked to sleep on the ropes and boxes. The American watched Arthur pile ropes and harnesses on the counter, intrigued by the purpose of each piece of equipment.

"Is it far down? Do we need gas masks for the volcano?" he asked. "Remember to buy lots of food, I'm starving. I don't think I've eaten anything all week."

Arthur waved him away, too busy to answer Alfred's never-ending stream of questions. He added a few more items on the pile, finally making enough noise to wake up the shopkeeper from his doze behind the counter.

"_Kaliméra_," the store owner murmured, lifting up his arm to rub his sleepy brown eyes. He stretched and yawned, detangling a kitten from his wavy brown hair.

"_Poso kostizei_?" Arthur replied, pointing to the supplies. They began to haggle.

Without anyone to talk to, Alfred grew bored and sat down on a nearby crate, impatiently waiting for Arthur to buy all of the necessary supplies. Something furry rubbed against his leg. He glanced down and smiled at the gray cat. Taking his smile as an invitation, the cat jumped into his lap and curled into a comfortable position. With gentle strokes, Alfred coaxed the feline into a deep purr. Over the purr he could hear Arthur and the shopkeeper, Arthur's voice sharp and crisp, a far cry from the shopkeeper's slow and drowsy voice. By the time negotiations were finished, Alfred had another cat sleeping on his feet and a third trying to climb the back of the crate. He looked up as Arthur approached.

"Sorry, kitties," Alfred said, lowering them to the floor and helping Arthur carry the supplies. "Do you really think this is enough food?" he asked. He worried that Arthur didn't have an accurate sense of his normal appetite, given the past week of seasickness.

"It will be," Arthur promised.

Alfred nodded, trusting that Arthur knew what he was doing. The volcano couldn't be too bad if the villager was willing to sell them ropes and other supplies. On the other hand, he still didn't see any other tourists around, so the locals probably needed whatever money they could get, including from suicidal explorers.

After they ate a quick lunch of fish and bread, a local was happy to ferry them over to the center island for a small price. Alfred lifted his share of the supplies out of the boat, then stopped at the edge of the beach, distracted by the thin wisps of smoke rising from the small dome of the volcano.

He had read about the volcano before, but it was an entirely new experience to see it in person. He felt a sort of double-vision; he imagined what it had once been, compared to what it was now. The volcano had been much larger a long time ago, but a huge eruption had created a bowl-like depression, with only a small mound marking where the volcano had once stood. Appearances were deceiving, however. Like an iceberg, most of the volcano remained hidden from view. It occurred to Alfred that spelunking into a dormant volcano could be dangerous. Despite the hint of smoke rising from the center of the island, Arthur still seemed eager to climb back into the volcano, so Alfred decided not to worry about it.

At the edge of a short cliff measuring only about twice their height, Arthur showed Alfred how to anchor the ropes and then how to tie them to his harness. "You just let out the rope a bit at a time and walk your way down," he explained. He called it 'abseiling,' but Alfred didn't recognize the word.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred leaned back and followed Arthur's directions. He gently bounced his feet along the cliff, letting out more rope as he rappelled down. It was the strangest sensation—almost like vertical walking. He went faster as he gained confidence, reassured that he wasn't going to plummet to the ground. Sooner than he expected, he reached the bottom. He whooped when his feet touched the ground.

Arthur quickly descended a moment later and smiled encouragingly. "Rather simple, right? It will be the same trick for descending the volcano, just deeper. Fortunately, _down_ is much easier than _up_."

"Yeah, but aren't we going to have to worry about _up_ eventually?" Alfred asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. Arthur seemed like a smart fellow, so he wondered why the other man hadn't thought much about the return voyage.

Arthur sighed and looked down at the ground. "There's something I should have mentioned earlier..."

Alfred immediately interrupted, saying the first thing that sprang to mind. "You're not part of a strange cult that practices virgin sacrifice in volcanoes, are you?"

"_What_?" Arthur sputtered. "No, of course not."

"Yeah, but would you admit it if you were?"

"You're an idiot," Arthur said, sounding exasperated. "What I wanted to say is... well, have you given any thought to what you're going to do when you find Atlantis?"

"Do you really think I will?" Alfred asked eagerly. The last person who had believed in his desire to find the lost city was Gilbert, and the voyage hadn't ended well for the Prussian. Other than that, his grandfather was the only who had always said that he would find Atlantis one day.

Arthur frowned. "I think I feel something," he said just before a rumble shook the island.

Alfred glanced up, trying to see if any smoke had erupted from the mouth of the volcano. He saw a few baseball-size rocks break off from the top of the cliff, but couldn't move in time to dodge. With a warning shout, Arthur pushed him down, landing on top of Alfred in an ungainly heap.

A few rocks landed nearby, followed by a shower of tiny pebbles. The rock fall ended almost as soon as it started, leaving behind a small cloud of dust. Alfred winced, feeling a few scratches and bruises on his limbs, but nothing major. He started to pick himself up and then noticed that Arthur wasn't moving. The other man's smaller frame was still draped across his chest. Alfred bit his lip, worried that Arthur had been hit by one of the falling rocks. Taking care not to let Arthur's head bump the ground, he rolled the other man onto his back and knelt by his side. He breathed a sigh of relief when Arthur's eyes blinked open.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Alfred asked, lifting two fingers in front of Arthur's dazed green eyes.

"_Kut_," Arthur murmured, his eyes crossing as he tried to focus on Alfred.

"What?" Alfred gaped, recognizing the Atlantean word for four. He brushed his fingers along the back of Arthur's head and frowned when he found a small bump. "I think you have a bit of a head injury, so just... stay with me, Arthur."

"_Stay? Yes, you wanted to stay,_" Arthur mumbled. His answer didn't make sense, but it was still perfectly grammatical Atlantean. Alfred had never heard of someone hitting their head and learning a new language. He wondered if he could have saved himself a lot of time and trouble by hitting himself in the head with a hammer.

"Of course I'll stay. I'm right here."

"_No, not here_." Arthur weakly reached for a chain around his neck, his fingers fumbling as he tried to pull it out from underneath his shirt. Alfred reached under Alfred's shirt and discovered a flickering crystal pendant at the end of the necklace. A memory flitted across his mind, filling him with the conviction that he had once been healed by a similar crystal. He lifted the crystal to Arthur's head and watched it glow. He quickly shook his head at the ridiculous notion of a healing crystal, wondering if he had also hit his head when Arthur pushed him down.

"How many fingers am I holding now?" he asked.

"Three," Arthur replied correctly. Ignoring Alfred's protests, he climbed to his feet and wiped the dust from his clothes. "We need to go," he said, looking towards the volcano with a hint of concern on his face.

"Yeah, it's probably best to put off the volcano for a few days," Alfred agreed, feeling a sting of disappointment.

"No, I didn't mean back to the village," Arthur clarified, reaching for the rope that would take him back to their small pile of supplies.

"Wait, what?" Alfred gaped. "You can't climb down into a volcano when you probably have a concussion and it's about to explode!" he protested.

"I'm quite well, I assure you," Arthur said, his face tight with worry.

"You're _not_ fine," Alfred protested, grabbing Arthur's arm and pulling him away from the rope before he could start climbing up the short cliff. He suspected that Arthur could kick his ass, but at the moment, at least, Arthur didn't resist.

"You don't understand, Alfred."

"What's there to understand? Atlantis has waited several thousand years. I'm sure it can wait a few days more."

"No, it can't!" Arthur shouted. "If I'm not down there, the entire city will be destroyed when the volcano explodes."

"If... when... _what_?"

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this," Arthur said, just before he grabbed the American by his suspenders and planted a hungry kiss on his lips. A moment later he turned around and scurried up the wall, leaving Alfred still in shock for a completely different reason.

Fortunately, at least some portion of Alfred recognized that he needed to catch up with Arthur to stop him or kiss him back or _something_. Breathing heavily, he climbed his way up the cliff and gathered the rest of the supplies. Then he chased after Arthur.

Ascending the volcano proved relatively easy, even for someone of Alfred's limited athletic ability. After its last major explosion, only a small portion of the lava dome was still above water level. A number of tourists had visited the isle, leaving a clear path up to the top. Alfred slipped and slid his way along the rock path, still trying to catch up with Arthur, who was a faster runner. No wonder he was able to keep his legs so lean and lithe, not that Alfred spent that much time admiring them.

As he ran, Alfred finally had a moment to think. He nearly smacked his own forehead, annoyed at his earlier stupidity. People didn't spontaneously learn new languages when they go hit in the head. But they _did_ revert to the ones they knew best. Arthur had been giving him hints, and he had missed them all. Finally he understood Arthur's complete ease with all sorts of languages. When he finally caught up with the other man, he found him anchoring his ropes near a crack in the ground.

Arthur offered one of the ropes to Alfred. "Are you still coming?" he asked.

Alfred grinned. "Of course, I am! You're not crazy. You're an _Atlantean_!"

* * *

With Arthur leading the way, Alfred tied a rope harness around his waist, shouldered his pack, and lowered himself as quickly as he could into the waking volcano. He tried not to think about what would happen if it suddenly erupted.

Arthur held a lantern aloft, its light illuminating the closest portions of the vast cavern. Craning his neck to examine the rough orange stone, Alfred rappelled his way down the walls. Arthur's quick lesson on abseiling helped, but it was still a little frightening to realize that a slender rope was the only thing preventing him from plummeting to the ground. Fortunately, his excitement overpowered his fear. He descended quickly, reaching the ground just after Arthur did.

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief when his boots touched solid earth. He found himself in an immense cavern, with tall carved pillars at the four corners. One had fallen over, creating a bridge over a narrow chasm. He was still admiring the architecture when the ground shook beneath Alfred's feet. The rumbling lasted longer than the previous shocks.

"Hurry up!" Arthur shouted as he grabbed Alfred's hand, leading him toward the fallen pillar. A wave of heat met them at the chasm's edge, caused by bubbling magma. At the rate it was rising, it would soon reach the top of the chasm and begin to flood the entire cavern. Even the pillar had started to crack from the heat.

Knowing that it was now or never, Alfred started to cross the makeshift bridge. His glasses fogged over and he found it difficult to see through the poisonous gases. He tried not to look down at the magma rising ever closer to his feet. He held his breath. Crossing the bridge felt like it took an eternity, but he knew it was only a few moments.

Alfred reached the other side of the boiling magma chasm and turned around just in time to see the magma touch the underside of the pillar. Arthur was only a few steps behind. The pillar started to crack and crumble, slowly falling to pieces beneath his feet. Arthur's arm shot forward and Alfred grabbed him, pulling him to safety. A moment later the pieces began to disintegrate in the boiling magma.

Still holding hands, they raced to the edge of the cavern, slipping through a small crack in the wall to an oasis on the other side. The air felt cool and fresh on Alfred's skin as he caught his breath. He pulled Arthur into a hug and gripped the other man tightly. He could still smell the smoke in Arthur's hair—a reminder of their close call. But he knew they weren't out of danger yet.

"Don't we... need to... keep running?" Alfred gasped in-between breaths, glancing back to make sure the rivers of lava weren't flowing behind them. Only then did he notice the island of Atlantis in the other direction. It gave him a strong feeling of déjà vu.

"No," Arthur said as he reached for his crystal necklace. "Everything will make sense in a moment, I promise."

And that's when the memories hit Alfred.

* * *

He woke up with a pounding headache that felt like the world's worst hangover as his mind tried to accommodate two sets of memories... the real ones and the fake ones. He blinked and saw the blurry outline of a hand appear in front of his face. He slowly noticed the feel of grass beneath his legs and the rushing sound of a giant waterfall.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Arthur asked.

"I'm going to need my glasses to answer that," Alfred replied. A moment later, his glasses appeared in front of his face and the world resolved into sharp focus.

"How are you feeling?"

Alfred grinned. "Well, I'm not in an erupting volcano and I don't want to puke up my guts, so I guess it's an improvement over the past week."

"Good, we need to get you hidden." With silent footsteps, Arthur led him back across a misty walkway towards the lost city. The silent trek gave Alfred some much-needed time to think. He had left Atlantis believing that Arthur was indifferent to his charms, but now he knew that Arthur had crossed an ocean to find him and bring him back. If that didn't mean _something_, Alfred would eat his books. He thought about the red string too, but Alfred didn't believe in fate, so he decided the vision was a simple coincidence.

Lost in thought, Alfred didn't notice the footsteps approaching. Fortunately, Arthur did. He pulled Alfred into a bush, and they waited as a few Atlanteans walked past. The women chatted and laughed as they carried their fishing equipment down to the beach.

"Shouldn't they be worried about the volcano?" Alfred whispered. He knew that time had slowed down for them when they entered the protected shell of Atlantis, but the magma had been rising fast. He estimated that they only had a few hours.

"The warning bells will ring when it's time," Arthur replied. He waited for the women to walk out of view and then pulled Alfred through narrow corridors and out-of-the-way paths, hiding him from prying eyes. Alfred knew that he should be worried about being caught, but it was hard to be worried when Arthur was still holding his hand.

Arthur's shoulders relaxed once they reached the security of a grand stone building. With its well-kept exterior and intricate murals, it was probably the nicest building on the entire island. Alfred followed Arthur through a central courtyard and into a side chamber. Judging by the bed, he guessed that they had entered Arthur's room. They both dropped their packs onto the floor, and Arthur sat down on the bed. He crossed his legs and waited for Alfred to join him.

"You know, the first time we swapped questions, you did most of the asking, so I think it's my turn this time," Alfred said as he sat next to Arthur. "So... why? Why send me away just to bring me back? Why the kisses? Why me?"

"You're an idiot," Arthur huffed. His cheeks darkened slightly; it was difficult to notice the blush underneath his tan, and Alfred only spotted the change because of how closely they were sitting together. The American leaned in. He placed his hand on top of Arthur's and waited a second to see if Arthur would pull back. With green eyes watching him intently, Alfred closed the distance and let his lips brush against Arthur's. He liked the kiss so much that he did it again.

Arthur felt warm, and free, and _alive_. Alfred started to shake as he felt a delayed reaction from the earlier danger. He pulled Arthur into his arms, feeling every breath and heart beat as a reminder that they were alive and safe. At least for now.

"We never let outsiders stay, but I realized that I had made a mistake as soon as you left," Arthur admitted. Alfred gazed into his eyes and remembered seeing the same swirling emotions before. With the benefit of hindsight, he realized that the emotions he had seen in Arthur's eyes immediately before their goodbye were regret and sadness. Arthur's breath felt like a whisper across Alfred's cheek. "I want you... for a job," he said, making Alfred's hopes shoot up and then immediately plummet.

"A job?" Alfred asked, finding it hard to concentrate on the conversation when he kept noticing Arthur's handsome cheek bones, graceful jaw line, and the way that his thick eyebrows highlighted his expressive eyes. "What sort of job?"

Amusement flickered across Arthur's face. "You are a scholar, are you not? I need someone like you to help us rebuild our culture."

"Rebuild how?"

"The royal library, to start with. Most of the history of Atlantis is written on the walls. But some of the murals are incomplete, and there are so many to catalog. It's an extensive task, one that I suspect will take years."

Alfred grinned. "So, running through an erupting volcano is your idea of an interview process? You know, most people just ask for a resume."

Arthur snorted. "The volcano was unintended, I assure you. I didn't expect it to take so long to travel to your homeland and back."

They both started as they heard a person's footsteps in the corridor. Arthur frantically gestured for Alfred to hide under the bed. Alfred dropped down to the floor and scrambled under the bed. The gauzy blue sheets didn't reach to the floor, so Alfred could see a women's feet enter the room.

"_Arthoúros_, the volcano is exploding again," she said.

"I know, mother. I'll be to the rotunda in just a moment."

She sighed. "You've been in your room all day. You're not still moping over the explorer are you?" she asked, her voice a mixture of sympathy and exasperation.

"No," Arthur honestly replied.

Alfred held his breath as Arthur's mother walked over to their packs on the floor. She bent down and frowned slightly when she noticed the ropes. "What is... all of this?" she asked as she turned to face Arthur.

Alfred held absolutely still. From her position kneeling next to the packs, she had a clear view underneath the bed. He somehow didn't think the gauzy blue sheets would be enough to hide him from view. His heart beat so loudly in his ears that he couldn't hear Arthur's reply. Just as he feared, she happened to glance down. She scowled and Alfred finally saw the strong family resemblance.

"Hello, Ms. Kirkland," he said brightly, crawling out from underneath the bed.

"That's not actually my last name," Arthur sighed. "I just had to pick one."

She crossed her arms and her eyes flashed with fury. "_Arthoúros_, did you risk the survival of our entire civilization by going to the surface?"

Her son glared back. "What survival? Atlantis is slowly dying! We have a better chance of survival with Alfred."

"Really?" Alfred asked in surprise. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be helping Arthur's cause. "I mean, yeah, definitely!"

"There's much we could learn from the outside world," Arthur added.

"Yeah! I think it's a great idea to rejoin the world. Although maybe _now_ isn't the best time, given the Great War." Alfred shut up when Arthur gave him a stop-helping-me glare.

All three looked up as the warning bells of Atlantis began to ring.

"We'll discuss this later," she promised.

"Oh, thank the gods... I'd much rather deal with a volcano than my mother when she's angry," Arthur admitted to Alfred in a whisper.

* * *

From his spot at the rotunda, Alfred had an amazing panoramic view to watch as the stone giants ringing the city stood up. Each created a source of blue light, growing larger and brighter until they joined together in a protective dome shield. It blocked the fiery balls of magma erupting for the volcano. Like a tidal wave, the magma flowed over the dome, encasing it in burning lava that solidified to shiny black rock. It cooled for a few moments, before blue light began to break apart the rock, sending it tumbling down the waterfalls circling the outside of the giant cavern.

Water streamed over the edge and the water table lowered, revealing more buildings and murals below the surface of the water. Within moments, the size of Atlantis had effectively doubled. Alfred watched the entire process in shock; even after everything he had read, he was still amazed at the powers of the Heart of Atlantis.

Arthur floated down. Alfred stepped forward to catch him as he approached the ground, holding him upright until he opened his eyes. He kept an arm around Arthur's waist as they stood together at the top of the stairs, examining the newly exposed land below.

"You weren't kidding about the underwater murals," Alfred said.

"_Arthoúros_, we need to talk," Arthur's mother said, although she didn't look as angry as before. Alfred let go of Arthur's waist and flushed. He had completely forgotten about the presence of other people. They walked away without him, leaving him unsure of what to do next. But on the plus side, at least he had an untold number of new ruins to explore.

* * *

The Atlanteans warmed up to Alfred quickly, particularly the children. After some assistance from Arthur in learning how to tie a cloth around his midsection, he started wearing their clothing. Running up and down the island helped build up his muscles and he even started to tan under the light of the crystal. Within a few months, he looked like an Atlantean himself, except for the large spectacles on his face. Every day on the island was an amazing new adventure, especially his time spent with Arthur.

The kissing and flirting continued, although it was all so new to Alfred that he didn't really know what to do. Fortunately, Arthur seemed to understand that he wanted to take it slow. They occasionally travelled to the surface to see how the outside world was progressing. It seemed to jump from one world war to another, but Alfred was at least pleased to hear that his own country was doing well. He hoped that somewhere his fellow explorers were all chasing their dreams and living life to the fullest.

The only dark spot in his new life was that no matter how much he tried, Alfred just couldn't convince Arthur's mother to like him. He tried giving her flowers and gifts, but stopped when Arthur asked if he was trying to court her. He wondered if she was still angry about the mercenaries. And then he began to wonder if she was angry because he was the one who had helped Arthur discover the truth about himself and the Heart.

Alfred found that helping Arthur plan for his coronation was a good distraction. The Atlanteans had been surprised—but thrilled—to discover that the royal family hadn't all died during the cataclysm. No one quite understood why Arthur's mother had kept it a secret for so many years, but they were happy to soon have a Queen again.

Alfred suspected that he knew the reason for her secrecy.

On the day of the coronation, he found her standing in front of the statue of the previous Queen, Arthur's father. She gave Alfred a guarded look as he approached.

"You're worried the same illness will happen to Arthur, aren't you?" Alfred said, finally putting his suspicions into words. "I know that he had an illness the crystal couldn't cure."

She sighed, turning back to look at the statue instead of Alfred.

After waiting for an answer, he pressed her. "The crystal can cure almost anything. It even cured my bullet wound. But I think that maybe the crystal couldn't cure that illness because it had caused it."

For a long time, he didn't think that she was going to respond. He wondered if he had just foolishly destroyed any smidgeon of good will she felt for him. So he was surprised when she turned to face him. "I asked my husband to use the Heart as a weapon," she admitted. "The world is a dangerous place and it even worked for a while, before the crystal turned on him. I... I just didn't want my son to suffer the same fate."

"Oh my god, I bet Gilbert wanted to sell the Heart to the Kaiser as a weapon," Alfred said, finally realizing how devastating it would have been for Arthur if Gilbert had succeeded. He felt sick to his stomach.

She nodded. "I hope you understand. That's why I couldn't risk the outside world learning of our continued existence."

"Why didn't you tell Arthur? I don't think that ignorance protected him." Alfred frowned. He had always hated the idea of leaving someone ignorant for their own good. The best way to avoid mistakes was with knowledge.

"That is what a scholar would say," she replied, smiling ruefully. "You'll soon learn that it's easy to fear your children will make your same mistakes. Perhaps Arthur has already learned to be wiser in his choices."

"What choices?"

She shook her head. "Come, or we'll be late."

* * *

Arthur did complain that they were almost late, but he also complained that Alfred's robes weren't straight, and spent some time trying to fix them, so Alfred chalked up his complaints to nerves. He stopped complaining after Alfred told him that he looked wonderful.

The ceremony was a simple one. Arthur used his crystal necklace to light up his father's death mask. He sent it floating into the air to join the countless others spinning around the crystal. The Queens of the past kept watch on Atlantis from above, and their collective thoughts, emotions, and memories powered the Heart. The ceremony was a celebration of their lives and a promise to continue their legacy.

It occurred to Alfred as the mask floated upward that someday it would be _Arthur's_ mask joining the others. He didn't agree with the reasons why Arthur's mother had never told her son that he was the Heart of Atlantis, leaving her son to discover the truth from a random scholar who wandered into their city, but thinking of the possible risks he found that he could sympathize with her decision.

Alfred joined Arthur in climbing a giant statue to watch the mask ascend. They sat on the statue's head together. Alfred draped his arm on Arthur's shoulder, while Arthur slipped his arm around Alfred's waist. It felt warm and comfortable.

"Should I call you 'your majesty' now?" Alfred asked cheerfully.

Arthur chuckled. "That would be nice, but rather unnecessary."

"So have you planned for your first act as Queen?"

"Well, there is the small matter of picking a King to ensure the line of succession. Obviously I've already made my choice."

"Oh," Alfred said. He knew that Arthur would have to chose someone eventually, but he had tried not to think about it too much during the months leading up to the coronation. Despite the story Arthur had told him about the red thread of fate, he felt a sudden stab of worry because he didn't believe in fate. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the Atlanteans would want one of their own as King. "Well, I bet your King will be very happy. Shouldn't you let them know?" he asked, giving Arthur a wan smile.

"I'm _trying_. He's being particularly dense. Honestly, I suspect he's the only person on this whole island who didn't realize. He can be so smart in some areas, and such an idiot in others. But it's rather endearing."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm. He saw this island in ruins and always believed in its full potential. I don't think he even believes his own potential, but I do. I knew he could be great from the very beginning."

"Wow, it sounds like you really love him," Alfred said, giving Arthur his happiest smile. "And I know that he loves you too, even when you call him an idiot."

He leaned forward and kissed Arthur. And of all their many kisses, that one was his favorite, because it was the first time that he was absolutely certain that Arthur loved him.

As they sat on the statue's head, Alfred shared what he had learned from Arthur's mother and warned Arthur of the dangers of using the Heart of Atlantis as a weapon. He still hoped that one day Arthur could use his power to lift Atlantis back to the surface, but he was willing to wait until the world stopped its constant battles. After all, they had all the time in the world.

* * *

Until then...

Atlantis is waiting.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Hope you enjoyed the brief cameo from Greece and the Greek Kitty Army.

I haven't watched any of Atlantis II, because Disney direct-to-DVD movies are terrible, but apparently it ends with Atlantis rising to the surface. I'm pretty sure Arthur would take one look at WW1 and WW2 and decide that he wants to wait a bit to make sure the planet can stop fighting.


	8. Omake

_So... is domestic-Atlantis-AU a thing? Well, it is now! (Mostly because I find Arthur and Alfred cuddled together on a bed to be the cutest thing ever, and a child makes it even more adorable_._) Anyway, here's your long-delayed omake, served extra fluffy:_

* * *

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star**

"..._up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky_..."

Alfred crooned the lullaby for the fifth time as he rocked Alice's boat-shaped crib. She blinked and drifted to sleep, eyes fluttering shut and her tiny mouth opening and closing as a small yawn emerged. Her platinum blond locks framed her small head, giving her the appearance of a sweet angel. But when she was awake her blue eyes sparkled with devilish mischief.

"Finally," Alfred murmured. He yawned and sagged onto his and Arthur's bed, enjoying the rare moment of quiet. He planned to rest for just a moment and then clean up the kitchen.

He woke up an hour later and discovered his glasses were no longer on his face, leaving the room fuzzy at the edges. Alfred stretched and sat up, reaching for his glasses on the side table, the place Arthur always set them when Alfred forget to take them off before falling asleep. If the glasses were on the table, he knew that Arthur was back. He looked around and saw that Alice was no longer in her crib. Padding outside, he found Arthur cradling their daughter in the courtyard.

"How did it go?" Alfred asked. He stroked Alice's soft hair and gave Arthur a peck on the lips.

"As well as I expected. I think in a year or two they will be ready."

"I wish they were ready _now_. Yeah the world can be a dangerous place, but it has lots of nice things too. Like stars. Pretty soon Ali's going to ask what a 'star' is, and I'll have no way to explain it."

Arthur chuckled. "It will be some time before you have to worry about that. Her first word has to come first."

"She came really close today!" Alfred said excitedly. "I think she said 'dah.' If she repeats it, it'll be us!" Like every new father, he firmly believed that his child was the cutest, smartest, sweetest child in the world. Unlike most other fathers, he also knew that his precious baby would one day become the Queen of Atlantis, giving him an extra measure of joy. He was sure little Ali would make both of her fathers proud. She was already the pearl of her grandmother's eye.

Arthur smiled and shook his head fondly. "Mmm, she takes after you, you know. You're both easier to handle when you're sleeping."

Alfred grinned. "I just hope she has your eyesight. There don't seem to be any optometrists in Atlantis."

They sat together, enjoying the cool evening air as the crystal above Atlantis slowly dimmed, basking the island in a dusky blue hue. Both felt tired, but content, satisfied with their dual roles as royalty and new fathers. The lost city hummed and flourished under their care, building its way back to the glory of ancient times. Alfred hoped to see it return to its proper position under the sun and stars before their daughter grew much older.

After enjoying the peaceful evening, they walked back to the bedroom and Arthur returned Alice to her crib. "I do have some good news," he added. "My mother is planning to babysit for the entire night."

Alfred grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "You know, it's been a long time since we..."

"Had a full night's rest?" Arthur replied teasingly.

"I was actually thinking of something else."

"Good. So was I."

* * *

**It Sure Beats Counting Sheep**

Arthur blinked open his eyes. Over the steady sound of Alfred's breathing, he could hear the pitter-patter of a running child. He felt a moment of panic and rolled onto his side just in time to see Alice race into the room and take a flying leap into her fathers' bed.

"Daddy! Daddy! I saw a ghost!" she shrieked. Arthur groaned as she crawled over him to reach the small gap between the two men. At age five, she was old enough for her own bed, but she still liked theirs best.

"They aren't real. Go back to sleep," Arthur replied reassuringly.

"A ghost?" Alfred asked drowsily, a hint of worry in his voice. "Where?"

"It was under the hammock!" she said, shivering.

"Sssh, sweetest. They aren't real." Arthur pulled his daughter under the blankets and wrapped an arm around her, hoping that the warmth would be enough to quiet her fears.

His plans were ruined by the overactive imagination of his husband. "How can you be sure ghosts aren't real?" Alfred asked. "People also said that Atlantis wasn't real!" he added, the panic rising in his voice. "If they were wrong about Atlantis they're probably wrong about ghosts!"

Arthur sighed and tried to calm him with logic. "Darling, the existence of _one_ mythological entity that turns out to actually exist doesn't prove the existence of_ all_ mythological creatures."

"_One_? You're forgetting about the aliens," Alfred protested. "Just look at Tony!"

"I wish I _could_ forget him," Arthur muttered under his breath. The strange alien that had traveled to Atlantis had taken an instant interest in King Alfred. Which meant that Queen Arthur didn't like him one bit. With a louder voice he added, "Fine, the existence of _two_ mythological entities doesn't prove the existence of all."

"What about the kraken?"

"Fine, fine, _three_."

They went back and forth counting not-actually-mythological creatures until Arthur heard soft breathing next to him and noticed that Alice had fallen asleep in the midst of their argument, lulled by the counting. Arthur smiled fondly and yawned. "Enough, love," he whispered. "Let's not wake her up."

"Oh, right," Alfred whispered back loudly. Then he shivered—still terrified by the thought of ghosts, but unwilling to admit his fears. Arthur took pity on him and shifted their daughter so he could wrap Alfred in his arms too.

The next morning Arthur woke up with his husband clinging tightly to him on one side and his daughter curled on the other. He found it slightly difficult to breathe, but it was still the most marvelous feeling in the world.

* * *

**Her Favorite Bedtime Story**

"...back when Atlantis was still underwater, so we had to take a submarine to reach the cave system. I had my maps to guide me, of course, but everyone else thought we were completely lost." Alfred pulled out the Shepherd's Journal and set it on the bed, flipping through the pages as he showed his daughter the intricate cave system.

"Dad," Alice interrupted. "Did you ever see the other explorers again?"

Alfred sat back, surprised by the question. He'd told the story to her dozens of times and never really thought about it. Alfred pushed his glasses higher onto his nose and stared off into the distance. "Not... exactly. But I do know they were all very successful. A few months after the volcano erupted we took another trip to the surface. It was strange... almost a century had passed up there. Some buildings I recognized and others were completely new."

Alice gazed up, her bright eyes flashing with intelligence and curiosity. "Ooh, did you go to see the Smithsonian?" she asked, all curious to learn more about a museum she had heard of, but never seen. "I bet you did. What did it look like?"

Alfred grinned and tapped her nose. "Yes, yes, I did. Gosh, I was thrilled to see it. It was much bigger than I remembered and filled with so many more people. There was even an exhibit on the world's greatest mysteries. You know, Arthur was a little peeved that Atlantis wasn't part of it," he said with a chuckle, reminiscing fondly. "That was still a few years before you were born."

"What about the other explorers?" she asked impatiently.

"Well, there was a placard on the wall listing the names of the exhibit's donors."

"It had their names?" she said excitedly, sitting up in her bed. Her eyes gleamed, reminding Alfred of his own thirst for knowledge. He never tired of her endless questions.

Alfred smiled. "Yes. They had left money in their wills for a fund dedicated to the thrill of discovery and broadening the expanse of human knowledge." He pulled off his glasses and wiped his damp eyes, remembering how he had teared up the first time he saw it. "And at the bottom it said, 'some things are more important than money.'"

They both turned to face the door as Arthur stepped into the bedroom. "Shouldn't you be asleep and shouldn't you be putting her to sleep?" he asked, looking first to Alice and then to his husband, both of them so easily caught up in the excitement of a story. They gave him identical pouts. Alfred was the first to relent. He pulled up Alice's sheets, tucked her in, and kissed her softly on the forehead. "Night, sweetie."

"Good night, Dad. Good night, Daddy."

Alfred pulled the curtain shut on his way out. He wrapped his arm around Arthur and kissed him in the hallway, enjoying the comforting warmth of his presence. Alice's question had reminded Alfred of the life he had left behind. He missed a few parts of it on occasion (usually the food), but it never made him feel homesick. After all, he couldn't be homesick when he was already home.

* * *

THE END.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

In case you're curious, Arthur and Alfred had a child using the power of the crystal and a surrogate. What's the point of having a giant, magical crystal if you can't use it to give your OTP a cute child? She's a few months old in the first story, five years in the second, and probably about nine in the last. I imagine that when she grows up she looks a lot like Kida :)

. . .

Thank you to everyone for your follows, favorites, and reviews! (Especially the reviews!) It brings a smile to my face whenever I get an email notification and see your lovely and helpful comments. I hope everyone enjoyed the ride.

As much as I love them, I'll be taking a short break from Disney-inspired stories to work on different oneshots. I think the next one will be a USUK college AU. Because there are never enough college AUs :)


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